Any Such Things as Happy Endings?
by WhittyOne
Summary: A Romano romance with a character of my own original creation. Chapter 20 is up...getting near the end here, folks. Feedback appreciated, desired, needed....what can I say? I don't have Rocket's ego - I'm fragile.
1. How Do You Solve A Problem Like Romano?

Carter returned from the staff mailboxes, carrying a handful of memos and envelopes. He separated his from Erin's and tossed them on the admin desk in front of her. "Thanks," she murmured as she began sifting through the pile. John hopped onto a stool next to hers and offered up a warning in a bemused tone. "Beware! One of those is in Weaver's handwriting. Betcha anything she's on one of her publishing rants." Erin groaned as she located the envelope in question and reluctantly broke the seal. She pulled the letter from inside and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the first couple of lines, and she groaned again. "I hate research." She continued reading, but this time, her groan lengthened into an all out whine. She pounded her head down on the desk, muttering, "Why me?"  
  
"Oh, come on," Mark soothed. "It's not all that bad. You'll get your first article out of the way, one less thing looming over your shoulder. Besides, publishing helps you learn a lot about the kind of doctor you want to be."  
  
"It's not that," Erin said, her voice muffled as her head was still lying on the counter. Jerry pulled the piece of paper from her loose grasp and read over it himself. About halfway through, a guffaw escaped his chest. "Oh, you poor thing," he commiserated before turning to the others. "Weaver assigned Romano as her advisor," he explained. There was a chorus of "oh, man" and "sorry" as Erin slid the paper back into the envelope. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she said uncertainly. At that moment, Dr. Romano emerged from trauma one, barking at the medical team inside. "The next time you page me for a surgical consult, it better be for a patient who MIGHT REQUIRE SURGERY. I don't make ER calls for idiot drunks who smash beer cans into their foreheads, leaving superficial cuts that any nursing student could suture up." He strode past the admin desk to the elevator, pausing only to add, "Dr. Green, since this is teaching hospital, could you please find the time in your busy schedule to actually TEACH these morons how to be doctors?" And then he was gone. John, Jerry, and Mark all turned to look sympathetically at Erin. "I'm gonna kill myself," she whimpered, burying her face in her hands.  
  
A sudden burst if static over the radio caught everyone's attention. Mark picked up the mic and absorbed all of the details about an incoming trauma. "Come on, you two," he called to John and Erin. "Three car MVA rolling in, ETA four minutes." Both of them jumped from their chairs and grabbed drapes and gloves, following Mark into the ambulance bay. They were joined a moment later by Kerry Weaver. "Dr. Windsor, I saw your box was empty. I'm assuming you've read my memo about the liver study."  
  
"Yes, I did, Dr. Weaver."  
  
"Good. This could be a real opportunity for you. The hardest thing to remember when working in an ER is that the practice of medicine continues to evolve outside the department. You'd be well served to learn that lesson early; your career will be much better served." Erin nodded, accepting the lecture with as much grace as she could muster. Mark could see her struggling, and when the first ambulance pulled in, he called out forcefully, "Windsor, you're with me."  
  
Erin hurried past Dr. Weaver, trying not to exude too much relief. "Excuse me."  
  
"You'll need to see Dr. Romano this evening before you leave. The key to making this study as success is finding out exactly what is expected from you up front."  
  
Erin nodded distractedly as she assisted Mark and Doris with pulling the gurney from the rig. Her eyes met Mark's over the patient, and he dropped a gentle wink. She smiled gratefully, even as Kerry's bark followed her inside: "Eight o'clock. Sharp!"  
  
The woman on the gurney was unconscious and bleeding from a scalp laceration. As they wheeled her into trauma two, Mark inspected the cut as Erin absorbed Doris' rapid-fire description of the accident. "Three car pile up on Fifty-five. Patient found unconscious and unresponsive behind the wheel. Scalp lac and possible trauma to the chest from the steering wheel. Pulse weak and thready, BP 100 over 60."  
  
"Got it Windsor?" Mark's voice was encouraging.  
  
"Okay, everybody, on my count," Erin spoke confidently. "One, two, three." They lifted the patient to the bed, and Erin pulled open the woman's blouse. "Visible bruising from the steering wheel," she said as she pressed her stethoscope to the patient's chest. "Reduced breath sounds on the left." She trailed her fingers over the outline of bone. "Broken ribs?" Mark asked, watching her eyes closely. Erin nodded, still concentrating on the woman beneath her. "Yeah," she announced quickly. "She's gonna need a chest tube."  
  
"Do it," Mark instructed, and taking a deep breath, Erin obeyed . After the patient had been taken up to the OR, Mark laid a gentle hand on her wrist. "You handled that great," he complimented. Erin thanked him breathlessly as she snapped off her gloves and pulled off the bloody drape. "And listen," he continued, "about this whole article thing. Don't let Weaver and Romano get to you. It's not their fault they get caught up in the paperwork and the posturing." He paused, considering his words. "Well, maybe it is." Erin laughed, and he smiled. "Try to think of it this way: as long as they are, we don't have to be."  
  
Erin nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Greene." As he walked away, Carter emerged from trauma one. He cocked his head as he caught sight of her, and she walked over to him. "How's your guy?"  
  
"Ahh, we had to call it. Severe head trauma, no response to meds, never had a real pulse."  
  
"I'm sorry," she commiserated. He shrugged, and she started down the hall. "Lunch?"  
  
"You buying?" He asked.  
  
"You still owe me for yesterday!"  
  
"So I'll owe you for today, too." She did not respond. "You know I'm good for it."  
  
She laughed. "All right. Doc's?"  
  
"Sure," John followed her out the door, adding, "Cheapskate."  
  
"Mooch," she shot back.  
  
Later that evening, she rode the elevator up to the surgical floor with a sick feeling in her stomach. She made her way to the surgeon's lounge and pushed open the door. It was empty. She checked her watch. She had been told to meet Dr. Romano at eight; it was two minutes before. She sat down on the couch to wait. Not surprisingly, it was almost eight- thirty before the door swung open and Robert entered the room. "Ahh, Miss Windsor, so sorry to keep you waiting. I had one bitch of a GSW to repair; took a bit longer than expected."  
  
"No problem," she said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She continued speaking as he removed his lab coat and sat down across from her. "I was told to meet up with you about the liver enzyme study. Dr. Weaver assigned you as my advisor."  
  
"Correction," he said sharply. "I requested that Dr. Weaver assign you to this study."  
  
"Really?" Erin wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or frightened.  
  
"Yep. You seem to be the only one in the ER who practices medicine with any common sense lately. And it occurred to me that you and I don't know each other very well." Erin remained silent during his pause, unsure how to respond. When he realized she wasn't going to speak, he continued. "And since it looks like you are going to have a bright future at this hospital, I figured it was time to change that." His words were kind, but his steely gaze and unemotional tone made her nervous. She remembered commiserating with Elizabeth about the harassment she had endured at Robert's hand, the misery he had inflicted on Maggie Doyle; she silently wondered if it was her turn. Raising her chin a bit, she spoke in a business-like manner. "I appreciate the opportunity, Dr.Romano."  
  
There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence that was almost unbearable, but Erin refused to avert her eyes from his. He seemed a bit impressed, but she was unable to revel in the moment. He rose to his feet and began issuing instructions in rapid succession. "I expect to see you in the lab at six a.m. sharp. You'll have two hours to collect the preliminaries before scrubbing in with me at eight. You will be responsible for collecting all the samples and getting them to pathology. You will also be responsible for collecting the path findings on said samples. We will establish the correlations together before we move on to prophylaxis. This is going to eat in to your free time BIG time. We're talking early mornings, late night, even weekends, so tell your boyfriend to either fire up the cold water or order the Playboy channel."  
  
"I don't have a boyfriend," the words came reflexively, and she silently cursed for speaking them aloud.  
  
Robert turned and gave her a slow, deliberate once over from head to toe. "Interesting." he purred. She rolled her eyes, but managed to keep her mouth shut. "Well, that's all for now. Go home and curl up in bed with your teddy bear." He dropped a lascivious wink. "Or whatever keeps you warm at night." Erin felt her cheeks flush even as she turned on her heel. She hurried out of the hospital to her car, flustered and a bit discouraged. "How am I going to make it through this?"  
  
The next morning, Robert Romano strode into the scrub room at eight fifteen. Erin was already there, gloved and gowned, standing rigid so as not to contaminate her person. "Good morning, Dr. Windsor, and how are you today?"  
  
Once again, her mouth spoke before her brain. "On time, Dr. Romano, thanks for asking."  
  
She winced inwardly, waiting for his tirade. But he only laughed, genuinely amused. "Yes, I am running a tad late. Then again, I am the real doctor here, so." He trailed off, leaving her to catch his meaning. She remained silent as he finished scrubbing and prepping for surgery. Once properly attired, he gestured to the door. "Ladies first." Erin bit back a snide retort, and stepped into the OR. Romano followed her closely, making a sudden observation. "Chanel Number Five?"  
  
"Huh?" Erin was caught off guard.  
  
"Your perfume."  
  
"Oh! Uh, yeah," her brow furrowed.  
  
"Very few women can pull that one off anymore," he said lightly. "Congratulations."  
  
"Thank you." She now found herself completely flustered, and said a silent thank you as Dr. Babcock entered the room. The two men were soon blustering away about golf scores and the state of American politics, and Erin was grateful to slip into the background. She remained silent for what seemed an eternity, feeling a great deal like wall decoration until finally, Dr. Romano summoned her to the table. She stepped quickly to his side. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"Nice response, Windsor. Maybe you missed your calling. I could use discipline like that in an OR nurse."  
  
Shirley shot him the evil eye, and he rolled his. "Oh, come on, you know I'm just kidding."  
  
"If you want your sutures in the right place, you'd better be," Shirley warned.  
  
Returning to the business at hand, Romano spoke again. "Dr. Windsor, could you please locate for us the hepatic artery?" He handed her a probe, and she leaned in to trace the appropriate area. "Very good," Romano continued. "Are you prepared to make the draw?"  
  
Erin nodded. "Fifteen gauge needle," she extended her hand, and Shirley placed the syringe on her palm. She leaned in once again as Romano talked her through the procedure. "You're going to draw from the anterior, keeping the needle at a forty-five degree angle." She followed his instructions, acutely aware of his body pressed against hers. Robert sensed her apprehension. "Don't worry, Miss Windsor, I'm not trying to cop a feel. I'm just trying to make sure you don't rupture anything. This man is here for a repair, not a transplant." She ignored him, forcing herself to focus only on the slowly filling syringe in her grasp. When it reached the necessary volume, Romano spoke again. "Lower the needle to ten degrees before withdrawing to reduce the chance of trauma to the artery." She obeyed, and placed the needle on the tray Shirley was holding. Before Robert could speak again, Erin was already asking for the cautery to seal the puncture. "Well, well," he said, his admiration audible in his voice. "Someone did their homework."  
  
This time, Erin could not resist. "You think I'd set foot in here with you if I hadn't?"  
  
Both Dr. Babcock and Shirley laughed at that. "She certainly knows you, Robert."  
  
Erin forced herself to meet Romano's eyes, and her breath stopped as she realized there was no trace of amusement in them. "I hope so," he said, his voice stern. "For instance, I hope she realizes it takes more than just one flash of know-how during one of medicine's easiest procedures to keep my confidence." He let the tension hang in the air as he turned his attention back to the patient on the table. Feeling thoroughly chastised, and knowing her part in the OR was finished, Erin began removing her gown. She collected the syringe as was at the door when his voice pierced the quiet once more. "Then again, there is something to be said for good preparation." She turned back to look at him, and knew his face was still expressionless beneath his mask. But somehow, she tightness in her chest subsided. "I'll just get this to pathology," she said quietly. Robert dismissed her with a barely perceptible nod.  
  
Fourteen similar trips to the OR yielded all the necessary raw materials, and then it was time for data processing. Out of pure frustration, Jerry cleared a two foot spot under the admit desk to house all the paperwork Erin hauled back and forth. Working her regular shifts in the ER was a blessing in disguise - mostly because it forced her to step away from the research in order to treat patients and work in traumas. She managed to blackmail John into helping her organize data and retrieve lab reports.  
  
One evening, she was sitting in the lounge, going blind over a chart review when Mark and Elizabeth entered the room. "Hey," Mark sounded surprised. "I thought you were off an hour ago." Erin dropped the folder into her lap and rubbed her eyes. "So did I." Elizabeth handed her lab coat to Mark and sank down on the sofa next to her.  
  
"How do you do it?" Erin asked her. "How do you work with him every single day and not just.just," she groped for words.  
  
"Not just smack him in the middle of his little bald head?" Elizabeth finished for her.  
  
"YES!"  
  
"He's an insufferable little creep, isn't he?"  
  
"Insufferable, yes, but I have a much better word than creep."  
  
Mark and Elizabeth laughed, exchanging a warm glance. Elizabeth heard Mark's unspoken suggestion and nodded. She rose from the couch and pulled Erin to her feet. "Come on." She removed Erin's lab coat as Mark neatly stacked the clipboards and folders spread across the table. "You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days."  
  
"No, I don't want to intrude." Erin protested weakly.  
  
"Come on," Mark insisted as Elizabeth pulled the young woman to her locker. "We're going to try that new Italian place downtown. We'll split a bottle of Chianti, gorge ourselves on pasta and tiramisu."  
  
"And burn Robert Romano in effigy?" Erin grinned, as Elizabeth nodded emphatically. Mark laughed, and Erin grudgingly collected her things. "Well, okay. But just dinner, and then I'm leaving. And you two can do." she paused for a second, blushing. "Well, whatever it is you were going to do before you came in and took pity on me."  
  
"You sure you don't want to join us for that too?" Mark asked.  
  
"MARK!" Both women spoke in unison.  
  
"What?! We were going to rent Casablanca and Citizen Kane, remember?" 


	2. A Surprise Invitation and an Unexpected ...

Usually, Erin looked forward to Fridays. A slow Friday in the ER put everyone in a jovial mood. And busy Fridays always seemed to fly by.  
  
But not this one. In addition to fighting the hospital computer in order to collect serology reports and nearly going blind searching the print for findings to support her thesis, she had worked a ten-hour shift in the ER. She was closing up her locker and fishing her car keys from her purse when Romano appeared in the lounge. "I hope you don't think you're going anywhere."  
  
She looked at him incredulously. "I'm going home," she said firmly.  
  
"I think not, my good doctor. We have a hundred and sixty pages of data to correlate. Slides to evaluate, notes to take, outlines to complete." He smirked evilly. "No rest for the wicked, my dear."  
  
She ran her fingers through her hair. "Dr. Romano, I really think I'd be more effective if I just picked it all up on Sunday."  
  
"Sunday? What do you mean Sunday? That's, like, thirty-six hours away." Erin's brow furrowed. "Tomorrow's the first day off I've had in a month."  
  
"Well, one more week won't kill you."  
  
His smug tone and self-satisfied grin made her blood boil, and she finally snapped. She planted her hands on her hips and looked him dead in the eye. "It is eight o'clock on a Friday night. I have been in this building for fifteen hours straight. I have been bitten, puked on, and some drunken frat guy grabbed my ass twice. I haven't eaten since nine this morning, and I miss my dog, who has probably shredded every inch of toilet paper in my house." She took a deep breath and spoke slowly and deliberately. "I am going home." She squared her shoulders and waited for his tirade.  
  
He stood silent for a moment, and then spoke as casually as if she had asked him the time. "Okay, so we work at your place tonight. Can you make dinner for both of us, or should I bring my own?" Her expression twisted into one of incredulity and impatience. "Okay, so I'll bring dinner for both of us. I hope you like Kung Pao. See you in an hour." He pulled open the door, then stopped suddenly. "Oh, and try not to hold it against the frat guy. After all, it is a rather exquisite ass." He was gone before the exasperated gasp left her lips. A bit rattled, she shouldered her bag and headed out to her car.  
  
An hour later, to the minute, there was a knock at her door. Erin realized she was surprised, that she hadn't actually believed he would show up. But there he was on her front porch, holding a brown paper bag. She opened the door and was greeted with the wonderful aroma wafting from the food. "I am assuming you have all the necessary paperwork. I'd like to hammer quite a bit out tonight," he spoke brusquely. Erin looked at him condescendingly as she pushed open the door for him to step inside. "Welcome to my home, Dr. Romano, won't you come inside?" she deadpanned. He moved past her, glancing around. The tiny house reflected her personality, and he couldn't help but feel amused. He reached the kitchen and placed the food on the table. He could hear music coming from the stereo and frowned. "Where's the TV?" Erin gestured to the living room. "I like to eat with the TV on."  
  
Before she could stop herself, the words just tumbled out: "Then go home and turn it on."  
  
Robert grinned at her sharp response. "You are a feisty one," he chuckled. She chose not to comment; instead she took her seat and reached for the food. The silence hung palpably between them as they ate, neither of the certain where to look or what to say. Relieved when they were finished and able to move on to work, Erin thanked him for dinner. He demurred briefly, and they began sifting through the stacks of reports scattered around the living room. They had been working for a couple hours when she grasped her neck with the hands and groaned softly. Robert glanced over at her. "Stiff neck?" He asked casually. Erin nodded. "You know, it's because your posture sucks." He stood and moved behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened beneath his touch, and he spoke sharply. "Relax." She did, behaving more in response to his order than out of reassurance. Robert began to manipulate her head from side to side in long, deep, circular movements. Soon she was lost in the feeling of the tension melting away. She was almost disappointed when he stopped. "Thank you," she said quietly.  
  
"Welcome," he arched his own back and checked his watch. "Well, I guess that's enough for tonight." He headed for the door. She rose to her feet to follow him. "What time should I be in tomorrow?" she asked as he pulled her front door open.  
  
"Tomorrow's your day off, Miss Windsor" he spoke curtly. "Enjoy it. There won't be another for a while." He chirped his car alarm, and Erin called out to him suddenly.  
  
"Dr. Romano?"  
  
He paused before climbing into the driver's seat, looking at her expectantly.  
  
"Don't call me that. It sounds so patronizing."  
  
"I guess you'd prefer DR. Windsor." His words were snide, but his tone had a gentle edge.  
  
"Erin would be fine."  
  
The two stood looking at each other, and suddenly, Erin realized something odd was happening. Something seemed to pass between them, a feeling she couldn't quite identify. She tried to glean whether he felt it, too, but his expression remained unchanged. "Good night, Erin," he said, and then slid into the car. He drove away quickly, leaving her to wonder.  
  
Eventually, the paper was finished. It was published and received quite a bit of acclaim. Erin returned to her regular schedule, and was surprised to find herself affected by the reduction in time spent with Dr. Romano. They still crossed paths at work; he still kept her dancing, one minute an insufferable ass, one minute the consummate professional. And every once in a while, Erin would sense that spark of almost-friendship, and would wonder if he ever gave her any thought.  
  
She got her answer one afternoon when she found herself alone in the elevator with him. "Dr. Windsor, may I speak to you about something of a personal nature?" She nodded, her expression soft as she realized he was genuinely flustered. "As you and Dr. Corday are quite close, I assume you've been invited to her wedding."  
  
"I'm her maid of honor, actually."  
  
Robert nodded himself. "I see. And since you and Dr. Corday are quite close, I assume you and she have spoken about her relationship with me."  
  
Erin gulped a bit, unsure how to answer. "Well, not really. But."  
  
"But what?"  
  
Erin bit her lower lip. "I.well, she. I mean, it's a little obvious."  
  
"Good God, spit it out!"  
  
She chose her words carefully. "I know you are very fond of her."  
  
She could tell by Robert's expression that he believed she knew it was much more that that, but he seemed grateful for her discretion. He continued. "Well, I've been invited as well, and as you can probably guess, I'd rather not go alone." He fell silent, and his demeanor betrayed that he was quite nervous. It dawned on Erin exactly what was happening, and she could not hold back just a bit of teasing. "Why, Dr. Romano, are you asking me on a date?"  
  
He winced. "Let's think of it as more of a business function."  
  
She giggled a little. "You're asking me to be your date."  
  
"Don't act so cocky! It's not like you're the only woman I could go with!" He spoke hotly. Erin laughed again, realizing there was no way he could insult her, not when she knew how flustered he was.  
  
"Well, good. Go ask one of them"  
  
"Oh, come on now. I would think you'd want to make Lizzie's special day as comfortable as possible. God knows the last thing a pregnant bride wants is to make small talk with a stranger their boss brought to their reception."  
  
Erin giggled again. "Okay, okay. I'll go with you."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"As soon as you admit that you're asking me on a date." She smiled sweetly.  
  
"Erin." he growled.  
  
"All right, all right, all right. But I have to be at the church an hour early." The elevator doors opened on the ER. And she stepped out. He jabbed the "door close" button, eager to escape her gaze. Erin returned to work, anxious to tell Elizabeth what transpired.  
  
  
  
The day of the wedding arrived, and Robert stood waiting outside the lounge. He was dressed sharply in an Armani suit, pacing and checking his watch. "Is it genetically impossible for women to be on time?"  
  
"Oh, shut up," Erin's voice turned his head, and his breath caught in his throat a bit. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head, baring her angular neck. Her dress was cornflower blue silk and clung to every curve of her body. The slit on the side revealed a long, flawless leg, and her open-toed sandal confirmed that leg was bare. "You look amazing," he said simply. Erin was a tad thrown but his simple and sincere compliment. "Thank you," she smiled. "You're looking quite dashing yourself."  
  
"Speaking of dashing," he tapped his watch.  
  
"I know, I know," she said. "Jerry, don't forget to page psych when Mr. Simm's films are back. And make sure Malik gives the lady in curtain two ten of Adavan" Robert slipped an arm around her waist and physically moved her out the door. His car was parked in the ambulance bay, and he opened the door for her to slide in. He climbed in beside her and gunned the engine. He eased the Jaguar onto the street and rounded the corner. As they drove, Erin pulled down the visor and opened the vanity mirror. Then she pulled a tube form her purse, and began to paint her lips a rich pink. Robert couldn't help but watch her, and he suddenly realized the image was eliciting quite a reaction below his waist. He cast his eyes down, only to have his gaze fall on her legs. They were crossed, left over right, and the slit of her dress revealed the left all the way up to mid- thigh. He could see the defined line of muscle beneath the softly tanned skin, and the activity in his groin kicked into a higher gear. Leaning over to change the radio station, he shifted nonchalantly in his seat. Erin did not seem to notice, and he breathed silent thanks for that.  
  
Once at the church, Robert accompanied her to the bride's room. Erin watched him as he spoke to Elizabeth, and her heart broke for him a little. She made a mental note to try and keep his spirits up, wondering briefly why it seemed so important. Her eyes found his a couple of times during the ceremony, and he always dropped her small wink, as if to say, "Don't worry about me, kid." When they all retired to the reception, she took her place at his side, scoffing at Carter and Malucci as they teased her about being "Rocket's" date. They sat at their table mostly, not talking too much, Robert trying not to stare too much at Mark and Elizabeth. At one point, he caught himself, and turned apologetically to Erin. "Look at me. I'm a guest at a wedding, the most gorgeous woman in the room is my date, and I sit pining after the bride."  
  
Erin touched his hand gently. "It's okay."  
  
Robert suddenly belted back his glass of champagne and dropped his napkin on the table. He rose to his feet and offered her his hand. "No, it isn't. Will you dance with me?"  
  
Wordlessly, Erin slipped her hand into his, and he led her to the dance floor. He put his arm around her, resting his hand against the small of her back. The deep v-cut of her gown allowed his skin to make contact with hers, and she shivered a bit. She put her arm around his shoulders, and he began to move her gracefully across the floor.  
  
"Now I know why you really asked me to come with you," she said. His expression was inquisitive, and a devilish gleam lit her eyes.  
  
"I'm the only woman you could find shorter than you."  
  
He laughed heartily. "Yeah, you are pretty tiny." A silence fell between them that was not entirely uncomfortable, and Erin allowed him to pull her body a bit closer to his. He rested his chin in the hollow between her shoulder and her neck, seeking only innocent comfort. At that moment, Erin realized two things that truly dismayed her. The first was exactly how hard Robert had fallen for Elizabeth. The second, and more alarming of the two, was exactly how much it bothered her.  
  
"Oh, my God," she thought to herself. "I'm jealous."  
  
She lay her cheek on his shoulder, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart.  
  
The evening wound down quickly, and the two soon found themselves alone in his car outside her front door. "Well, thank you for making a horrible evening much easier to stomach," he said flatly, gently squeezing her hand. He face softened in sympathy. "Robert, I'm sorry."  
  
"Hey, no sweat, gorgeous. Don't give it another thought." She reached for the handle, but he stopped her. "A lady in a dress like that deserves to be walked to her door." He stepped from the car and walked around to open her door. He took her hand and helped her out, then placed his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her up her front steps. She unlocked the door and opened it slowly. "Do you want to come in for some coffee?" Coffee?! Come in for some coffee?! Her mind screamed at her. What the hell are you thinking?! Her eyes locked with his, and she knew he could tell exactly what she was thinking and feeling. She felt naked as she stood there, wishing she could suck the words back in, waiting for his response.  
  
She didn't have to wait long. Robert put his hand on her cheek and drew her in close. He brushed his lips over hers, softly at first, then more firmly. She was about to wrap her arms around him and deepen the kiss when he stepped back. "No," he said softly. "You deserve more. You don't deserve to be with somebody who's thinking about somebody else." He turned and hurried back to his car, as she stood frozen to that spot. He spoke quickly before climbing back into the Jag. "I won't make love to you until I know I can do it with my eyes open." With that, he hopped into the vehicle and was gone. Erin walked into her house on shaky legs, closing it firmly behind her.  
  
  
  
The following months were an agonizing song and dance for Erin to endure. Most times, Robert acted as if that one kiss had never happened. He was his rude, arrogant, inconsiderate self the majority of the time, coolly professional the rest. As this behavior continued, Erin busied herself by talking herself out of her feelings. She spent her days reminding herself what a loathsome human being he could be, how no one in the hospital really liked him, how he could infuriate her at the drop of a hat. But there was always a tiny, nagging kernel of longing that would not go away. She watched Carter, her best friend, grope tentatively towards a romance with Abby, saw Susan dating and loving every minute of it, even saw Weaver slowly finding comfort in her now-public lesbian lifestyle. Men asked her out, and sometimes she went. But she always knew her heart was not in it.  
  
And then the day came when the fax machine spit out the most devastating news she'd heard in a long time. Mark was dead; her friend, her mentor, the man who kept her head in the game when she wasn't sure she could cut it in emergency medicine, was gone. She stumbled numbly through the day, finding brief moments of comfort in John's embrace, or sharing tears with Susan. Finally, she returned home and curled up on the couch with her golden retriever. She ignored the ringing of the phone, the buzzing of her pager. Finally, when the doorbell rang and the dog barked in excitement, she forced herself up. She shuffled to the door, wiping her eyes. She opened it to find Robert, standing on her porch in his starched shirt and tie, his suit coat slung over one arm. Suddenly, all the pain of his post-kiss rejection came welling up inside her. "What do you want?" She snapped.  
  
"To see how you are,"he said quietly.  
  
She scoffed angrily. "So now you care how I am."  
  
"I've always cared." His voice still maddeningly soft, reasonable.  
  
"Well, don't worry, Rocket," she spat. "I'm just fine."  
  
He still refused to engage her hostility. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Go home, Robert." She tried to close the door, but he blocked it and pushed his way past her.  
  
"I'm coming in."  
  
She whirled, a bit unsteadily, and followed him. Her fists were clenched in anger. "You arrogant bastard! Get out!" He faced her, still oblivious to her rage. "I said get out!" She snarled again. "You may get to call the shots at County, but this is my life. You don't just get to be a part of it whenever it suits you. I deserve better than that, Goddamnit!"  
  
"You're right." His calm rational tone only enraged her more. She reached to grab his arm, meaning to drag him to the door. Instead, he caught her hands in his and pulled her into his embrace. She fought him, pounding his chest with her fists. He withstood the pummeling, waiting for her to tire. When she finally did, melting tearfully into his arms, he helped her to the sofa. There he held her as she cried, gently stroking her hair and rubbing her back. Erin gave in to the comfort her offered and poured out her grief.  
  
When her sobs had finally run out, Robert rose and moved into the kitchen. He pulled a towel from the rack and ran it under the faucet. Then he filled a glass with water. He returned and handed her the cup before tenderly wiping her cheeks with the damp cloth. Erin drank deeply, and gave a shuddering sigh. Robert took her hand and guided her to her bedroom, where her turned down her bed in a manner almost parental. She figured that, since her hysteria was over, he was going to tuck her in and leave her to rest. So it came as a complete surprise when he slid his arms around her waist and covered her mouth with his. She gasped softly as he parted her lips with his tongue. As her shock wore off, and she began responding to the kiss, his hand found her breast. She arched into his touch, falling back onto the bed and pulling him down with her. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull her shirt over her head, and then his mouth was on hers once more. She clawed his shirt open, needing to feel his flesh against hers. She felt his hands between their bodies fumbling with his belt. And then his trousers were gone and his fingers were pushing her skirt up. He removed her panties in a whisper of silk, and then he was inside her. She clung to him as he buried his face in her neck. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift within the waves of comfort and pleasure he created between them.  
  
When the passion had crested, they lay together in the dark; Erin's head pillowed on his chest, Robert's fingers dancing lightly up and down her spine. The silence that hung between them was surprisingly comfortable, and Erin found herself reluctant to break it. So it was Robert who spoke first, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Feel better?" Erin rose up slightly, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. She pulled the chain, and they both squinted against the soft, rosy light. She looked down on his expressionless face, and swallowed hard.  
  
"Is that why you did this?" She asked. "To make me feel better?"  
  
"Well, my goal wasn't to make you feel worse," he responded. She didn't seem satisfied, so he spoke again. "Of course I wanted you to feel better."  
  
"Is that the only reason?" Despite her best effort, her voce was small and timid. Robert was a bit dismayed to find himself deeply affected by her vulnerability. He shifted beneath her, searching for an appropriate answer. Finally, he sighed heavily.  
  
"Look, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Understand?" She nodded, so he reluctantly continued. "I really suck at the touchy-feely stuff. I know you feel like you're entitled to it." He paused to take a breath then added hastily, "And you are. You really are. Doesn't change the fact that I'm not good at it."  
  
"And you don't do things that you aren't good at, do you?" Her tone was sad, and Robert reassured her the only way he knew how. He pulled her in and kissed her once more, not with hunger or passion, but with a warm and tender sweetness. When he released her, her forced the words out in a quick, almost painless torrent: "I could be falling in love with you." He wanted to say more; his mind screamed at him to qualify such a statement. But he knew he couldn't bear to see her face twist and break upon hearing such things, so he forced himself to remain silent.  
  
Erin sensed the struggle that was raging inside him, and found it was not difficult to accept what little he could give. "Well, at least I know that we're in the same boat." She noticed his sudden change in demeanor, how his ego seemed to perk up upon hearing such a thing. She lay her head back on his chest and felt his arms encircle her once more. Silence fell between them once again.  
  
When Robert realized she had no intention of telling him anything else, he posed a simple question: "Is that your way of saying you're falling in love with me?"  
  
She didn't answer, only sighed deeply and snuggled tighter against him.  
  
"Good night, Robert," she yawned.  
  
"Oh, well aren't you the clever one?" She giggled at the restrained annoyance in his voice, but refused to say more. Finally, exhausted and a bit bewildered, they both slipped quietly into sleep. 


	3. Facing the Music

The early morning sun through the drapes roused her easily. She rolled over languidly, only to find herself alone in the bed. She blinked her eyes open, suddenly wondering if the activities of the previous night had transpired solely in her head. She had almost convinced herself that it had all been a dream when her bathroom door swung open. Robert stood in the doorway, dressed in the same clothing from the day before, shirt open, tie slung loosely around his neck. The steam trailing behind him told her he had already showered, and she realized she could smell coffee brewing. She smiled at him, and he finally spoke:  
  
"You're out of dental floss."  
  
Erin rolled her eyes. "Good morning to you, too, Robert." Her brow suddenly creased. "You better not have used my toothbrush."  
  
His face clouded with confusion. "I can stick my tongue down your throat, but I can't use your toothbrush?"  
  
"Right," she said, fluffing her hair with her fingers. "Kissing is one thing, but sharing a toothbrush? That's just gross!" Her eyes scanned the room. "Have you seen my robe?"  
  
Robert found it, green satin draped over the back of a chair. He lifted it, dangling it from one finger.  
  
"That's it. Could you toss it here?"  
  
He leaned against the wall, a self-satisfied grin on his lips. "Nope. Sorry. You'll have to come and get it."  
  
Tongue in cheek, Erin rose from the bed, letting the sheet fall away. Robert's eyes moved easily over her as she crossed the room and held out her hand. He held it open for her to slip her arms inside. "You are a goddess," he said simply.  
  
"Thank you," she placed a small kiss on his cheek, securing the sash about her waist. "You are an ass."  
  
She left the room with him following close behind, humming appreciatively at the view. As they reached the kitchen, Erin's dog Sophie slipped in through the pet door from the back yard and trotted over. Robert dropped to one knee, rubbing the animal's auburn coat. Erin found a mug and filled it with coffee, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She could literally feel the change in the air as Robert stood up and spoke in a quiet voice. "We need to talk." Forcing herself to remain collected, she turned to face him as if nothing was amiss. "Sure."  
  
He took a seat at her kitchen table. After a long pause, he began slowly. "I need to know how you think we should handle this."  
  
"This," she repeated neutrally.  
  
"Us."  
  
"Oh, us."  
  
"Now don't get me wrong. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to just walk in and announce to every heterosexual male at County that I'm bedding the sexiest woman in the ER. Especially Carter and that slug Dale Edson." That flash of the old Rocket helped to put them both a little more at ease. "But it leaves me to wonder what we would be left to deal with."  
  
"If everyone found out we were.involved, you mean."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"You think the repercussions of disclosing such information would be less than pleasant?"  
  
Robert seemed surprised. "Don't you think so?"  
  
"No, I know so." Her answer gave him a small but visible sense of relief, and Erin could not pass on the opening. "You think I want to spend all my time listening to my co-workers telling me how much better I could do?" She grinned devilishly as he took her comment on the chin. "Plus, with your record of suspected sexual harassment, one would logically assume that I was just in it to save my job."  
  
She giggled as he sighed in exasperation. "All right, all right," he rose from the chair and crossed the room, stopping just in front of her.  
  
"So, you're okay with this being just between us?"  
  
Erin was surprised to realize that she actually was okay, and she nodded. "Sure." She was further surprised when he leaned in and kissed her gently before saying, "Not forever. Just for now." He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She returned the embrace, running her hands over his back. "I've got to go," he said softly against her neck. They exchanged one last kiss, and then he quietly left the house. Erin walked to her front window to watch him drive away. As the Jaguar disappeared down the street, she hugged her arms over her chest. Not forever.just for now. She shivered. What exactly does that mean?  
  
  
  
She spent that afternoon wandering aimlessly about the house. It was her turn to cover the night shift in the ER; she did not have to be in until eight that evening. Worried that her inability to focus would only get worse, she dressed in a leotard, loaded some soothing music into her CD player, and forced herself into the yoga routine she'd been using for four years. Closing her eyes and stretching her muscles, the rest of the world melted away until all she could hear was her own pulse in her ears. After a while, she emerged from her meditation, confident she could at least survive the twelve-hour shift that lay ahead of her. She showered and dressed at an easy pace, and at seven-thirty, grabbed her keys and headed out the door.  
  
Arriving at the ER, John greeted her exuberantly. "Am I glad to see you! The board is full, we've got at least twelve people who have been waiting three hours to be triaged, and I was supposed to be out of here two hours ago!"  
  
"Can I at least put my stuff away?" She hurried into the lounge to drop off her bag. When she emerged once more, John continued speaking as if he'd never stopped. "You should have seen the trauma that blew through here earlier. Sixteen college kids trying to build a fifty-foot bonfire, and it collapsed. We had crush injuries everywhere!"  
  
Erin clicked her tongue in mild disgust. "Try not to sound so excited, Carter,"  
  
"I'm not," he answered defensively. "I just wanted you to know why we got so backed up." He followed her to the admit desk and rounded her through the patients on the board. "I'll stick around until we get the films on the guy in curtain two, and I can suture up the scalp lac in four, but I'm not taking any new charts." Erin smiled gratefully at him. "You sure you don't want to just make a mad dash for it?" John shook his head as he headed for curtain area two.  
  
"No way. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get one up on you. It'll be nice to have you owing me a favor for once."  
  
"Don't push your luck, Carter." Erin called after him, but she couldn't help but grin. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed her first chart of the night and headed for exam one.  
  
The night droned on at a maniac pace. She treated and streeted a broken ankle, a stomach flu, and a lacerated palm in what felt like a matter of minutes. The radio was blessedly quiet as she, Chen, Kovac, and the rest of the staff worked at break-neck pace to clear the board. Finally, just after midnight, they were down to non-critical, easy to treat patients. Luka, who had come on at nine that morning, asked Amira in a weary voice where he could find Erin. She directed him to the suture room. Luka found the young doctor irrigating the arm of a very stoned young woman who had locked herself out of her house. In order to gain entry, she had broken a window. Of course, she then cut herself reaching inside to unlock it and push it open. Erin was saying, "It's a good thing you had the presence of mind to grab your house key before coming here," when Luka stuck his head in the door.  
  
"Think you guys have things under control?"  
  
"Sure," Erin grinned at him piteously. "Get out of here, you look exhausted."  
  
"I love you," Kovac groaned as he headed back down the hall. Erin giggled as she returned her attention to her patient. "Well, Miss Dickson, it looks like you're going to need about ten or fifteen stitches." The young woman rolled her glassy eyes with a moan.  
  
"I'm gonna have a ugly big-ass scar, ain't I?"  
  
"I'll do my very best," Erin promised, then gestured to the barbwire braid encircling the biceps of the girl's other arm. "You could always get another tattoo."  
  
The young woman snorted. "Can I get that in writing? My mom would die if she knew I had doctor's permission." Erin laughed at that as well, then bent her head in concentration.  
  
She emerged from the room a short time later and headed to the admit desk. "Arm lac, ready for discharge."  
  
Lydia hopped off her stool as Erin handed her a prescription. "Tylenol with codeine?"  
  
Erin nodded. "I'm afraid to give this girl anything stronger; she practically floated off her chair." Amira laughed as a voice barked out of the radio speaker. "County this is 27, anyone there?" Malik moved to pick up the mic. "This is County, go ahead 27."  
  
"We are en route with a 19 year old male, multiple GSW's to the chest and abdomen, ETA two minutes."  
  
Erin grabbed a drape and gloves. "Prep trauma two and page surgery," she called as she headed out into the ambulance bay, Malik following at her heels. They met the rig and unloaded the gurney, taking note of the young man's clothing and tattoos. "Gang shooting?" Erin asked.  
  
EMT Rodriguez answered her with a nod. "Most likely."  
  
"Should we expect any more of his homies?"  
  
"Street was quiet when we got there."  
  
"Hope it stays that way," Erin mused as they transferred the patient quickly to the trauma room.  
  
Shortly after, it became necessary to intubate him, which Erin did almost reflexively. "He's going to need a left chest tube," Malik informed her. He handed her the necessary equipment, and she leaned in to make the required incision. She had barely broken skin when a spray of blood drenched her from throat to waist. She jerked back, and felt two hands catch her by the shoulders. She turned and found herself face to face with Robert. "It's okay," he reassured her brusquely, taking the scalpel from her hand and moving her aside. Trying not to show how rattled she was, Erin moved around to the other side of the gurney. I can't believe he's still here! Sudden beeping grabbed her attention. "He's bradying down," she announced. "Get the crash cart!"  
  
"Chest tube is in," Romano barked.  
  
"Charging," Lydia called out as she set the dials on the cart. Erin grabbed the paddles; Malik slathered them with gel. The familiar beep sounded from the cart, and Erin commanded everyone back. "Clear!" She discharged the voltage into the patient's chest, with no response. "Charge again," she demanded. "Clear!" Two more shocks, and the young man's heart began beating once again. "Got sinus," Erin announced. "Squeeze in two more units."  
  
"Nice job," Robert said as he raised the guardrails of the bed. "Let's get him upstairs." Erin assisted in pushing the gurney to the elevator, not certain if she was doing it because it was her job, or if it was just an excuse to spend a few more seconds with Robert. She found herself hoping it was the former, because it wasn't doing much for her ego - he seemed all but oblivious to her presence. He shooed the other passengers off the elevator car as he stepped aboard, then turned to face her. Just before the doors closed, he dropped her an almost imperceptible wink. She smiled to herself, then turned and headed back to the ER. She removed her gloves and drape and dumped them in the biohazard bin before planting her hands in the small of her back and stretching. She could hear music drifting from the portable stereo Jerry had left at the admit desk, and she walked toward it. With no new patients, the next couple of hours dragged by. Then just after three-thirty, the phone rang. Amira answered it, then held it out. "Erin, it's Dr. Romano for you."  
  
Erin glanced around, but she and Amira were the only two people in the area. She accepted the receiver and lifted it cautiously to her ear. "This is Dr. Windsor."  
  
"Thought you'd like to know your gang-banger made it off the table," his voice was gravelly with fatigue.  
  
"Oh. That's good." She noticed Amira watching her, and rolled her eyes for effect. Amira grinned, and turned her focus back to her magazine. "Thanks for letting me know."  
  
"You're welcome." Silence hung between them for a moment.  
  
Upstairs on the surgical floor, Robert was sitting alone in the darkened lounge. He rubbed his brow in frustration, not knowing what else to say, not wanting to hang up the phone. Finally, he sighed in resignation. "Well, good night."  
  
Erin's voice drifted softly from the earpiece. "Yeah, to you, too."  
  
He dropped the handset back into its cradle, then pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He tried to imagine what demurrals she would be making to the people downstairs, what she would say to try and explain his call. Probably giving them some line about how I chewed her out for emptying half that guy's volume on the trauma room floor. He checked his watch, calculating how much rest he could get before returning at nine the next morning. Then he found himself trying to think of an excuse to return to the ER. He could say he left something there earlier, or that he needed to check one of the schedules. And, of course, there was always the generic "paperwork" rouse.  
  
Oh, come on, grow up! He chided himself. You've been here for fifteen hours! You spent at least ten of that in the OR! Go home! Get the hell out of here. before you make a really stupid mistake.  
  
He stood up slowly, collecting his valise and jacket, and moved to the door. He exited the lounge and walked over and pressed the elevator button. The car arrived after a brief wait, and he stepped inside. His finger hovered over the button for the ER for a second or two, before finally stabbing the one for the parking garage. He leaned heavily against the wall, and the doors slid shut.  
  
  
  
Being on opposite shifts at the hospital prevented the pair from seeing each other for the next two days. Erin's pride had begun to smart when Robert didn't call, and she was afraid to make the first move. She had still not decided what to do when, on the third day, she checked her hospital mailbox and found a note that read "See Accounting" in lieu of her paycheck. Curious and confused, she made her way to the appropriate office and handed the note to the receptionist. The woman flipped through her messages and nodded. "Yes, you'll need to see Dr. Romano." Erin's heart skipped a beat, and she hurried to the surgical floor. His secretary was not at her desk, so she knocked a bit awkwardly on his office door. She heard his voice bark from inside, "What?" She turned the knob and stuck her head inside. "That's real polite."  
  
Robert looked up, his expression softening a bit when he saw her. "Oh, it's you. Come in."  
  
"Nice to see you, too," she said in a flat voice.  
  
"I suppose you're looking for this," he held up a white envelope containing her check. She crossed the room as he stepped out from behind his desk. She reached for it, but he held it just beyond her reach. She cocked one eyebrow at him, and he leaned in to kiss her. She barely had time to respond before he pulled away, once again, just her boss. Then he handed her what she came for. "Don't forget to sign your time card again."  
  
Erin's heart sank a little as she pulled the card from the envelope and Robert tossed a pen at her. She had thought that his holding her check was just a rouse so they could be alone together. Knowing there was a legitimate reason seemed to deflate that theory. As if he'd read her mind, he piped up. "You do know I could have let Weaver collect that signature."  
  
Her eyes met his, and she saw that familiar devilish glint. "Thanks for running interference." She finished signing her name and slid the card and the pen across the desk to him. Then his face turned suddenly serious.  
  
"Did you hear about the funeral?" He asked in a low voice.  
  
She nodded. "Elizabeth called me last night."  
  
"You're going, of course."  
  
"Of course."  
  
He sighed. "Yeah, me too." A momentary pause. "Would you risk being seen in public with me again?"  
  
"Why, Dr. Romano," she said coyly. "People will say we're in love." His failure to respond was not lost on her, but she chose to let it slip. "Thank you. It would be nice to be there with someone."she groped for words. Unable to find any to sum up her feelings, she simply finished, "It would be nice."  
  
Robert was visibly relieved. "Yeah, well I figured we went to the wedding together."  
  
"Now, that's in bad taste." She turned and headed for the door, she was turning the knob when his voice came from behind her once more:  
  
"Can I call you tonight?"  
  
Smiled to herself, but forced her expression to be little more than reassuring. "I'd like that." Then, heart in her throat, she opened the door and left.  
  
  
  
The morning of Mark's memorial dawned crisp and clear. Erin awoke and dressed without turning on the television or the stereo. She had chosen a simple black silk suit, and wore only her watch and the gold earrings the Greene's had given her for her birthday. Her doorbell chimed unexpectedly, and she hurried to answer it. She saw the black Jaguar through the front window. "Oh, God, he's early," she said aloud. Pulling the door open, she repeated herself. "You're early." Robert stood on her front step, and though he almost always dressed in a suit and tie, today he looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Come on in. I need about another fifteen minutes." He followed her wordlessly into the house. She thought he might wait in the kitchen or living room; instead, he continued after her into the bedroom. She sat in front of her vanity and began sweeping her auburn locks up into a French twist, but he moved behind her, stopping her hands. "Leave it down." She dropped her hands to her side, and he gently stroked her hair back down. His eyes found hers in the mirror.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
He nodded, even leaned over to place a soft kiss on her neck. Relenting, she picked up her brush and began pulling it through her hair. Tucking it behind her ears, she stood up. "Well, then, I guess I'm ready." Robert put an arm around her waist and she leaned into his embrace as they headed out of her house.  
  
They drove to the cemetery in silence. Occasionally, Robert's hand would leave the wheel to gently touch her knee or squeeze her fingers, but his eyes remained fixed on the road. As they pulled into the appropriate area, they could see a few people already milling about: Kerry Weaver, John Carter, Peter Benton. Robert parked the car, climbed out, and moved around to open her door. She took the hand he offered as she rose from her seat, and they moved together toward the crowd together. As they got closer, Robert recognized Dr. Swift, and quietly excused himself to go speak to him. As he walked away, John approached Erin with a curious expression. "What are you now - his social safety net?"  
  
Erin shrugged, and unsure of what else to say, used Robert's own analogy. "Well, we did go to their wedding together."  
  
"Oh, that's tacky!"  
  
"Hey," she gestured to Robert, a few yards away. "His words." She and John continued speaking for a bit as more and more people arrived - Donald Anspaugh, Haleh and Lydia, Michael Gallant, even Frank. Then, finally, the limousine pulled up to the gravesite and Elizabeth stepped out, followed closely by Jennifer. She looked around for a bit, finding her bearings, then slowly moved towards them. Erin's eyes stung as she folded her friend into her embrace. "Elizabeth, I am so sorry."  
  
"Thank you so much for being here," Elizabeth was composed but sincere. "Mark was so fond of you. Of both of you," she reached over to embrace Carter as well. John kissed her cheek gently.  
  
"Well, we both owed him a great deal." John put his arm around Erin, whose face was now streaked with a single tear. "He will be greatly missed." He easily guided the two women to chairs, and they gratefully sat down. When the minister called everyone to the service, Robert took his place standing behind Erin, gently tugging on her hair. She smiled up at him, and then the clergyman asked everyone to bow their heads.  
  
When the memorial was over, John informed everyone that they were welcome to assemble at his family's estate for a reception. Everyone dispersed, heading for their vehicles. Once on the road, Robert asked Erin if she knew how to get there. She nodded, giving him the directions. They rode on for a bit before he spoke again. "You've been there before?"  
  
"A couple of times," she responded absently, checking her makeup in the visor mirror.  
  
"Anything ever go on between you two?"  
  
That got her attention. "Who?"  
  
"You and Carter."  
  
Erin looked at him incredulously. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Just curious." His tone seemed a bit too aloof, and she leaned over, trying to see his eyes.  
  
"Are you jealous?"  
  
Robert shot her a look of, "Give me a break," but she laughed anyway. "No, Robert, nothing ever 'went on' between Carter and I."  
  
"Good," he said simply.  
  
The reception John had arranged was lovely. There was soft music, good food, and people stood about easily sharing their tales of Mark and other conversation. Erin and Robert were standing on the terrace sipping wine when Elizabeth appeared. Robert, who had not spoken directly to her yet, embraced her a bit awkwardly. "Elizabeth, you have my most heartfelt sympathies. Mark was a good man. I'm sorry he didn't have more time." Bewildered, Erin found herself beaming inwardly with pride for him. Breathing deeply, she focused all her concentrations on not letting it show. Elizabeth returned the hug with genuine warmth. "Thank you, Robert." Then she stepped back with a heavy sigh. "I'm glad I found you both together," she said softly. "That way I'll only have to say this once."  
  
"Say what?" Erin was concerned.  
  
Dr. Corday swallowed hard. "I'm selling the house."  
  
"Selling the house?" Robert repeated.  
  
"Yes. I'm going back to London."  
  
Erin's heart sank. "Oh, Elizabeth, no. Don't leave."  
  
Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't go back to that house. It's too hard. He's everywhere, in everything.I just can't bear to face it, day in and day out."  
  
"Okay, so we find you a new house," Erin soothed. "That doesn't mean you have to leave the country."  
  
"No, I have to go. I'm a single mother now. I need the support of my family."  
  
That explanation rang hollow to both Erin and Robert, but he managed to speak first. "We're more a family to you than any other people on the planet, Lizzie."  
  
"He's right," Erin insisted. "There isn't anything we wouldn't do for you, no help we wouldn't give."  
  
"No, I'm sorry. My mind's made up. Ella and I leave the day after tomorrow." She hugged both Erin and Robert one last time before turning abruptly to go. "I'm so sorry."  
  
After she vanished from site, Erin turned to him, her face filled with sadness. Clenching his jaw, Robert opened his arms to her. "Come here." She stepped into his embrace and he held her for a moment, wrestling with his own quiet agony. "Can we get out of here, please?"  
  
Erin nodded, and he left her to fetch the car. She thanked John in the warmest manner she could, and made her own exit. She was barely in the car before Robert pealed out of the drive. He was almost oblivious to her presence as he steered the car down the streets. When they arrived at his house instead of hers, she was almost certain he had forgotten she was with him. His leaving the car and walking into the house alone only supported that idea, and Erin was unsure what to do. She moved through his front door on unsteady legs, and looked around. He was nowhere in sight. She moved a little further into the house, and finally found him in the study. He had poured himself a shot of scotch, and was leaning heavily on the oak beverage cart.  
  
"You really can't stand to see her go, can you?" Her voice was quiet, but it cut the air like a knife.  
  
"You don't understand," his voice was flat.  
  
"What?" Her tone hardened. "Wanting someone who wants to be with someone else?" She tuned on her heel. "Don't be so sure."  
  
"Erin," he called after her, but she ignored him. She walked into a room across the hall and pulled her cellular from her bag. She flipped it open and dialed information. When the recorded message paused, she requested the number for Yellow Cab, then pressed "1" to be connected. Robert entered the room and reached to take the phone from her but she jerked away. A voice answered on the other end of the line, and she spoke hastily. "Yes, I need a taxi to.to." She glanced at him in frustration. "Where the hell am I?" When he shook his head and refused to answer, she stalked back to the foyer. "Fine, I'll go outside and find the address myself."  
  
"Erin, would you get back in here?"  
  
She almost called out a refusal, then changed her mind. "I'm sorry," she told the dispatcher. "I'm going to have to call you back." Robert emerged and she whirled on him. "You know, I know that you have feelings for her, and I think I've done a pretty good job dealing with that!" She pushed her hair from her face before continuing. "And I know it's hard to close the book on someone you really care about. But that doesn't give you the right to vent your frustration at my expense. By my count, with Lizzie gone, I'm the only friend you've got!"  
  
He met her fiery gaze. "You're right."  
  
His simple admission deflated some of her anger, and she stepped closer to him. "Look, I'm trying really hard not to form any expectations. I don't want to ask for too much from you, but I don't mind giving you a little of what you need. Now I think that's pretty decent of me."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Good," she sighed. "Then you'd better get the rules straight. I want to be here for you, but you've got to ask me. I can't read your mind, and even if I could, I wouldn't. It can be just between us, but you have to tell me what you're looking for. And Robert?" Her eyes bore into his. "I won't let you use me."  
  
"I don't mean to," he said. "I don't know what the hell is going on around me right now. All I know is that you are an oasis in the middle of it. I don't offer you anything, because I don't know what I can give. And, despite what you may think, I am trying to be considerate of you." He rubbed his hand over the top of his head. "It's not that I want you to replace Elizabeth, it's just.I don't know how to separate the two of you."  
  
"I'll tell you how." Erin crossed to him and took his hand in hers. "I'm the one who's here. I'm the one you can touch, the one you can talk to. I don't want to reform you and I don't want to redeem you. I just like finding my way with you." She took his face in her hands. "I don't know where this is going, Robert. Like I said: no expectations. But like you told me once, you can only come along with your eyes open." He moved to kiss her, and she pulled back slightly. He persisted and she finally let him cover her mouth with his. His lips moved slowly and deliberately, and his gaze never left hers. When the kiss was over, he released her asking, "Will you stay, spend the night with me tonight? "I don't know," she said honestly, checking her watch. "It's early. Let's see where the evening takes us." She glanced around. "Where's the kitchen?"  
  
She ended up staying that night, and the night after. 


	4. Love, Or Something Like It

Waking up in Robert's bed that second morning, Erin glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. The digital face read six-thirty, and she yawned. She'd have four hours to kill before reporting to work; two with the man lying next to her. She rolled onto her side, facing him, her head propped on her arm. As she gazed silently at his sleeping face, she wondered again just exactly what she had gotten herself into. It was unnerving to realize just how much she was beginning to care for him, especially when she couldn't be sure how he was feeling. "Just because he isn't being cruel about it, that doesn't mean he isn't using you." She sighed to herself, trying to quiet that nagging inner voice of doubt. "Don't forget that this is Robert Romano here, the man you yourself once labeled the Prick of the Litter." Surprisingly, that thought made her smile.  
  
Suddenly, his voice broke her reverie: "Take a picture; it'll last longer."  
  
Erin realized she was still hovering over him. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"  
  
"Oh, no," his voice dripped sarcasm. "I can sleep like the dead with someone staring at me."  
  
She giggled a bit. "I bet it's easier to sleep through my staring than it is through your snoring."  
  
"Nobody said you have to sleep here. You've got your own bed to go to."  
  
His words, as well as their delivery, bit into her like teeth, and she could feel the faintest sting of tears behind her eyes. She rolled over, clutching the bed linens to her throat. Almost immediately, however, Robert was embracing her from behind, his chin finding its way into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "That was nasty." Erin did not respond, so he tried again. "I'm not used to early morning pillow talk." She still did not answer, and he sighed heavily. "Guess maybe that's something I'm gonna have to work on." She was quiet a moment longer, then turned her face slightly so they could make eye contact.  
  
"Don't go to any trouble on my account," she said, allowing the slightest edge of hostility to creep into her voice. She was pleased to see that the notion of her being upset did actually affect him. After letting him twist a moment longer, she finally relented. "You could always just keep your mouth shut." She cocked her head to one side, as if something had suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, wait, you can't do that either." Robert's expression relaxed a little as he realized that, despite the jibe, she was letting him off the hook. She moved onto her back beneath him and allowed him to kiss her.  
  
"I may not be used to waking up with you here," he said quietly, "but I must admit, it is kind of nice."  
  
"Oh, 'kind of'? Careful, Robert," she chided gently, "you almost paid me a compliment there."  
  
"Yeah, well, I was hoping to get one in return."  
  
She laughed a little, pulling his mouth back down to hers. Resisting, he continued speaking against her lips. "I'm serious. This is the part where you say, 'Why, thank you, Robert. It's kind of nice being here'."  
  
She laughed again at his critique of her manners, eyes widening a bit when she realized he meant every word he said. "You're serious."  
  
He nodded. "Don't you like it here?"  
  
Erin glanced around the room. "Here, meaning.?"  
  
"Here, meaning.here. The bed, the room, the house."  
  
"Well, there's definitely something to be said for a king size bed." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.  
  
"And the rest of it?" Robert hounded.  
  
"Well," she hesitated. "It's nice. It's a big enough place." She looked around at the beige walls, the chocolate drapes, the russet carpeting. "A little brown for my taste."  
  
"What's wrong with brown?"  
  
"Nothing." she tried to continue, but he interrupted her.  
  
"It's a warm color, goes with everything. My decorator said it adds a sense of class, of dignity."  
  
She giggled, and he became genuinely annoyed. He shifted his weight, intending to move back to the other side of the bed, but she caught him by the shoulders. "Are you mad at me?" She asked, astonished. He tried to shrug it off, but she persisted. "Robert, what does it matter if I like it or not?" Her voice sounded nonchalant, but when his brown eyes locked with her green ones, he could see that she knew exactly how loaded that question was. He struggled for a minute, then answered in a small voice:  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Erin could read his clouded expression. She knew that it did matter to him, that he wasn't sure why, and that it bugged the hell out of him. She pulled him back into her full embrace and lifted her head to his, her tongue dancing lightly over his lips. He held her tightly as she deepened the kiss, moving his body gently but firmly over hers. He could feel her mouth smiling under his and pulled back. "What?"  
  
"You know, some camel or some jade could really open the place up."  
  
"The animal and the green rocks?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Exactly." He buried his face in her neck, gently nibbling on the flesh beneath her ear. "I'm serious though." Paint a couple of walls, maybe re-upholster some furniture. You know, you could put a really nice skylight in the living room. That would really brighten things up. Oh, and I know the mallard is a symbol of masculinity, but this place looks like a wild bird refuge."  
  
Roberts fingers slid up and covered her mouth. "Do you want to talk decorating, or do you want to make love?" He asked bluntly. His other hand moving beneath the covers made it clear to her which he would choose, but she couldn't resist teasing just a little.  
  
"Can't we do both?" He kissed her mouth one last time.  
  
"Sure. I could just tune you out." He pulled the bedclothes up over his head and disappeared under them as she giggled. A moment later, much to Robert's satisfaction, those giggles changed into a different sound entirely.  
  
When Erin walked into the ER through the ambulance bay doors a few hours later, she was greeted by an irate Dr. Weaver. "Where have you been?" She demanded. "I've been paging you for over an hour! I called your house, I got no answer, I could only get your cellular voice mail." Erin hastily dug her pager from her purse, frantic to discover why she hadn't heard it. "Dr. Weaver -" she began, to no avail; Kerry's tirade continued. "You know, Erin, you're a doctor of emergency medicine now. You're being considered for an attending position. If you're going to succeed at all you have to realize that just because you aren't on the schedule doesn't mean you can disappear!"  
  
"Dr. Weaver -"  
  
"You should know by now that we experience unexpected problems here all the time! There's no way of knowing when we are going to need to call someone in to help pick up the slack. I need people I can depend on around here."  
  
"DR. WEAVER!" Erin raised her voice and finally stopped the woman's flood of words. "I don't know who you've been paging, but it wasn't me." She held her beeper out for Kerry to inspect. It was indeed working, but had not logged a message since 6:32 the previous night. Kerry was momentarily taken aback, but managed to press on a bit more. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"  
  
Erin squared her shoulders. "I wasn't home. And my cell was off because I went to the movies last night, and I didn't think to turn it back on because I always put my pager right next to the bed." Dr. Weaver's expression told her that the woman had no idea what to say next. Erin inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. "I am very sorry you could not reach me. I won't forget to turn my cell back on again."  
  
"See that you don't," Kerry answered in her typical, I-have-to-get-the- last-word-in manner. She walked over to the admit desk, leaning heavily on her crutch. "Frank, who the hell is 4837?" She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when Michael Gallant dashed in to the department, nearly killing himself on the biohazard bin. "I got the pages!" He gasped as he tried to regain his balance. "I'm sorry it took so long, the sergeant wouldn't let me leave in the middle of an exercise." Erin could barely stifle her amusement as Kerry blanched in embarrassment. She turned and found herself face to face with Susan Lewis, who was similarly choking on her own giggles. "Tell me that wasn't worth the ass-chewing," she grinned and she and Erin allowed themselves to share a moment of laughter as they headed into the lounge. "So worth it."  
  
"So, let me see if I've got this straight." Susan spoke as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Cell phone's off, not answering at home, pager's on the bedside table," Susan cocked any eyebrow. "New guy?" Erin forced herself not to react, but Lewis was undaunted; even taking the absence of response as an affirmation. "Mm-hmm. I thought so. Who is he?" Erin still said nothing, merely slipped into her lab coat and hung her stethoscope around her neck. "Oh, come on, I've been here since five, I need a pick me up."  
  
Erin laughed, shaking her head. "What makes you so sure you're right?"  
  
"Well, you must have been at his place. Otherwise, you'd have picked up the phone at home."  
  
"Oh, and I couldn't have been out running errands."  
  
"Not on a morning when you could sleep 'til ten. Besides, grocery shopping or getting your oil changed doesn't leave a girl glowing like that." Susan stepped a little bit closer. "And if my mechanic bit me, I'm pretty sure I'd sue."  
  
Erin's face was blank. Susan gently pulled the opening of her blouse aside, revealing a red mark on her chest half concealed by the cup of her bra. "Oh, my God!" Erin gasped, pulling her shirt closed and fastening the top two buttons.  
  
"So give!" Susan pleaded. "Tell me who he is!" Erin shook her head. "Oh, come on!"  
  
"No way," she insisted. "I've jinxed myself enough in the past. Not this time, baby."  
  
"Oh, so it's kinda serious." Susan mused as they left the lounge together.  
  
"I don't know," Erin answered in a light tone. "Might be someday."  
  
"Ooh," Susan took a sip from her cup. "So when do I get to meet him?"  
  
Erin patted her friends shoulder with a grin. "Don't hold your breath."  
  
"Ah, you're no fun," Lewis groused as they reached the desk and took turns rifling through the charts. "So is he the jealous type?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"We're still going out tomorrow night, right?"  
  
"Oh!" Erin smiled, remembering. "Absolutely. Abby on board?"  
  
"As far as I know."  
  
"Cool."  
  
Erin stepped out to the waiting room. "Sylvia Reynolds?" She called out, and a tiny, silver haired woman rose to her feet. "That's me, honey."  
  
"Hello. I'm Dr. Windsor. You're here today to have your glucose checked?" She took notes on the chart as the woman explained her problems with dizziness and nausea, leading her to curtain area three as they spoke. From the corner of her eye, she could see Weaver speaking to Gallant. Kerry's face was flushed, and Michael didn't seem too happy. Smiling to herself, she turned back to Mrs. Reynolds, ready to start her shift.  
  
Four hours, two traumas, and one dead patient later, Erin made her way to the roof for a moment of peace and quiet. She was squinting up into the afternoon sun when a voice behind her made her jump. "Thought I might find you here." She turned to see Robert slowly approaching. He was dressed in the same scrubs and lab coat she'd seen him in a hundred times. Yet now, knowing what was underneath, she had an entirely new appreciation for his appearance. "Didn't know you were looking for me."  
  
"Neither did I. Until I got to the ER and you weren't there." His tone was even, his face expressionless, and Erin found herself feeling quite off balance. "Did you need something?" she asked carefully.  
  
He shrugged. "Heard Weaver came down on you pretty hard for some such thing."  
  
She shrugged as well. "Nothing I can't handle. Especially since I wasn't completely at fault. I can't believe she couldn't even keep my pager number straight." Robert seemed amused by that. "It always helps when Weaver puts her foot in her mouth," she finished, tucking her hair behind her ear. Robert crossed his arms over his chest, and Erin felt a twinge of concern. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Who me?' He walked past her to look down off the edge of the building. "Why wouldn't I be?" Something suddenly dawned on her, and she moved next to him, leaning against the fire escape. She looked at his profile and spoke in a gentle voice.  
  
"It's weird, knowing she's gone for good, isn't it?"  
  
Robert tried to brush her question off. "She'd been gone, she was in Hawaii. This isn't any different."  
  
Erin sighed. "Yes, it is. This time, you know she isn't coming back."  
  
"So?" He shot back, a bit too quickly.  
  
"So.."  
  
Robert glanced at her and was unnerved by her calm demeanor and diplomatic expression. "Now, this is what's weird. We shouldn't be talking about this."  
  
"Why not? She was important to both of us."  
  
"Yeah, but.."  
  
"But what? Robert, I've known how you feel about her from the very beginning. Please don't treat me like I'm stupid."  
  
"I'm not," he insisted hotly.  
  
"Then stop pretending like it doesn't bother you." He crossed his arms again, tighter this time and she continued as gently as she could. "Robert, love can begin overnight, but it doesn't end that way. It takes time. Time and patience and frustration and hurt, and sometimes it never completely goes away. But whatever happens, you have to let it become a part of you, a piece of who you are. You can't just shut it out, because eventually, that door is going to open again. And if you don't deal with the ugly stuff now, you're just going to find it waiting for you on the other side." She reached out and touched his arm, and he finally turned his face to hers. "Now, you can deal with this with me, or without me. It's up to you. And whatever you choose, whether you share it with me or deal with it privately, I'll be there when you reach the other side. But please, Robert, deal with this. Now." His face was suddenly full of naked longing and regret and he reached for her. She embraced him warmly, her fingers gently stroking the fine hair at the base of his skull.  
  
Robert held on to her firmly, struggling with her words as the echoed in his ears. His mind was racing and he opened his mouth to speak. "Erin..."  
  
A sudden beeping cut him off, and she withdrew regretfully from his arms. She checked her beeper. "They need me in the ER," she said, tenderly stroking his cheek. "Are you all right?" He composed himself quickly, nodding as her pager chimed once more. She groaned at it and headed across the roof, gravel crunching under her feet. Then his beeper sounded as well. She glanced back over her shoulder. "The ER," he confirmed. Realizing this probably meant there was a major trauma rolling in, they rushed inside together.  
  
When her shift was finally over, Erin headed for the lounge to collect her things. She planted her hands in the small of her back and arched her chest. Her spine gave a satisfying crackle, and she sighed heavily. She was fumbling with her locker, trying to decide whether or not to pay a visit to the surgical floor before leaving, when the door swung open. Carter entered the room, and she smiled. "Hey, you," he grinned, unshouldering his satchel. "Just coming on?"  
  
"Are you kidding?" She scoffed. "Stick a fork in me, baby, I'm done." She lay her stethoscope on her locker shelf and removed her lab coat. "You pulling ten or twelve?"  
  
"Hopefully just ten. I'm supposed to be on again at five tomorrow."  
  
"Yuck," she commiserated, closing the metal door and searching her bag for her keys. She was about to wish John a good night when he turned to her, his face serious. "Hey, could I ask you a favor?"  
  
"Sure," she nodded. "What's up?"  
  
"You're going out tonight, right? With Susan and Abby?"  
  
"Tomorrow night," she corrected.  
  
"Oh," John looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Erin's curiosity piqued. Finally, he managed to continue. "Do you think you could, you know, keep an eye on her for me?"  
  
"Who? Abby?" He nodded, she felt a bit concerned. "Why? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Well, I don't really know. She's just seemed.you know. Down, lately. I mean, I know it's been tough for her for a while. Breaking up with Luka, then that neighbor of hers attacking her. And now that Mark is gone." He trailed off, and Erin nodded in understanding. She got the feeling that there was more to John's unease than he was saying. Yet she could also tell he had his reasons for keeping it to himself. Rather than trying to pry it out of him, she simply lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Of course I'll watch out for her. She's my friend, too, you know."  
  
John smiled gratefully at her, and the two headed out of the lounge together. They proceeded to the admit desk, where they rounded the board and exchanged pertinent patient information. Finally, after he had left her to begin his shift, Erin was forced to come to a decision. She could walk out into the ambulance bay, make her way to her car, and drive home. Or she could venture upstairs and check things out on the surgical ward. She wasn't sure how comfortable Romano would be with her presence, and she began replaying her day in her head. She remembered the young girl she had sent upstairs needing surgery for a ruptured appendix. She decided that, if she really wanted to go, she could always use her desire to follow op on that case as an excuse. Her mind made up, she moved toward the elevator.  
  
Once upstairs, she easily located the young woman in question. She was in recovery, extubated, and sleeping under sedation. Erin picked up her chart and scanned it briefly, when Shirley approached quietly. "Her sepsis should be under control by the morning," she said in a soft voice. Erin nodded, returning the clipboard. She leaned over to check the antibiotics hanging from the IV stand, and the nurse spoke again. "UNOS found a match for one of our liver patients about an hour ago. He's in OR three." Erin glanced up, as if confused. "Dr. Romano," Shirley clarified, a small grin on her lips. "He'll probably be a few more hours."  
  
Erin felt a kernel of panic twist inside her stomach. Making a mighty effort to act oblivious, she asked casually, "Why would I care?" She let the question die on her tongue as Shirley crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression clearly communicated that she knew exactly what was going on and could not be duped. Erin raised her left hand to her forehead, not sure what to do or say. Finally, Shirley reached out and sympathetically patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, Dr. Windsor. Your secret is safe with me." Erin's face was still cautiously suspicious, so she reassured her once more. "Hey, whatever makes him happy makes my life a WHOLE lot easier. You think I'm gonna rock the boat?" A teasing light filled her eyes. "Of course, I never realized you were glutton for punishment."  
  
Erin finally allowed herself to relax. "Believe me, Shirley, neither did I. OR three?"  
  
"Yes. That surgical team is the only one still here, and I doubt any of them would notice if you were to peek in."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"Never saw you."  
  
"Thanks, Shirley." She walked out of the room and across the hall. She made her way into the correct observation area and watched for a few minutes. Robert was, of course, absorbed in the task at hand; he never looked up from the patient once. Erin finally turned to leave, wondering what she should do next.  
  
  
  
Transplant surgery was always a kick. Robert knew he was a talented surgeon, but transplants were a true opportunity to indulge the good old God Complex. This one could not have gone better if he'd written the scenario himself. When he finally removed his mask and surgical cap, he found himself filled with the usual well-deserved exhaustion. He checked the clock in the scrub room; it was almost two in the morning. No reason to go downstairs, he thought to himself, she was off hours ago. He headed for the locker room to change, then to his office to check messages. There were plenty, but none that he deemed worthy of his attention such a late hour. He retrieved his suit coat and briefcase, locked his office door, and proceeded out to his car.  
  
He had already climbed in and gunned the engine before he noticed something stuck beneath one of the windshield wipers. He stepped out and pulled it free. A key, no label, not even a keyring. Still, he had a pretty good idea where it came from. Sliding back behind the wheel, he shut the door and pulled out of his parking space. Fifteen minutes later, he stood on the front porch of Erin's house. He paused a moment before pushing the key into the lock. It turned easily. He stepped inside, closing the door and locking it behind him. He made his way into the kitchen, where a dim light burned warmly over the sink. He found a bottle of Merlot, a single glass, and a note. "Sorry I couldn't stick around to see the transplant results. Toast your victory, or drown your sorrows." It was signed simply with an E. Robert uncorked the bottle and poured himself half a glass. Then he moved around the counter, and gently pushed open the bedroom door.  
  
The television was on, providing just enough illumination. Erin was lying on her side in a long, white T-shirt. Sophie, her dog, was sprawled out next to her. Her hair was tousled on the pillow, and she was deeply asleep. Robert stood over her for a moment, gazing silently down at her. "You're really something, aren't you?" He whispered. "What the hell do you want with a guy like me?" She stirred a little, but did not wake. Sighing heavily, Robert finished his drink and set the glass on her dresser. He undressed quietly, letting his clothes lay where they fell, to tired to worry about them. Then he switched the TV off and walked around to the other side of the bed. "Go on, girl," he gently shooed the retriever. Sophie stretched, yawned, and reluctantly left her mistress' side to curl up on a pillow on the floor. Robert eased himself under the covers, molding the front of his body to the back of Erin's. He smoothed her hair down and rested his chin in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, his favorite part of her anatomy. There's just something about the skin of a woman's neck, he thought to himself as he inhaled her fragrance. He considered waking her, but finally decided not to. He simply settled in against her, listening to her hypnotic breathing and drifting off to sleep.  
  
Sometime later, Erin stirred, and came slowly awake. She could feel his arms around her, his breath on her shoulder, and her stomach twisted in delighted knots. When she left her key on his car, she hadn't been certain he would use it. Even as she lay in his embrace, she wondered if it had been an appropriate thing to do, or if it was too much too soon. She pondered whether she should let him keep it, or if she should ask for it back. Would she even have to ask? Maybe he would give it back on his own. Did she want him to give it back? Her mind was racing, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Let's just wait and see, she repeated silently to herself. Let's just wait and see.  
  
The morning dawned crisp and cool, and a gentle breeze wafted in through the open window. Erin awoke, finding herself in the exact same position, still cradled in Robert's arms. She lie a moment, silent and still, savoring the feel of his body against her. Then, taking great care not to jostle him, she tried to extract herself from his embrace. His voice in her ear startled her. "I'm awake."  
  
"Oh, good." She rolled over to face him. "Morning."  
  
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, seeming quite content.  
  
"How did everything go last night?"  
  
"A certifiable success," he gently nuzzled her cheek. "The key was a nice surprise."  
  
Erin wasn't sure why, but she felt herself blushing. "Glad you liked it."  
  
"Is it mine to keep?"  
  
She bit her lower lip in thought. "Do you want it?"  
  
He smiled a little. "It's nice to have a choice where to go at the end of the day," he mused. "Especially if it one choice is not ending the day alone."  
  
She arched up a little and kissed him warmly. "Then it's yours." They lay together in the quiet until Sophie hopped up onto the bed and dropped a soggy chew toy on Robert's chest. He grimaced as Erin laughed, but obligingly picked it up and tossed it for the dog to fetch. "Gross," he muttered, wiping his fingers on the comforter.  
  
"It's just her way of saying she likes you," Erin assured him. "Hey, how is Gretel with other dogs?" "She's all right, I guess." "I only ask because I was going to take Sophie to the park today. She hasn't been out of the yard in days, and she gets hyper without a good workout every now and then. Would Gretel like to join us?" Robert seemed genuinely touched that she would ask, and Erin was struck once again by what a paradox he was. Kissing him once more, she bounced out of bed and walked into her closet. She emerged in spandex leggings and tank top and a jersey windbreaker. "You're going now?" Robert asked, a bit flabbergasted. She nodded as she perched on the edge of the bed to put on her socks and running shoes. "I have to be in at nine. She stood up and zipped up her jacket. Sophie trotted into the room, and Robert muttered, "Damn spoiled mutt."  
  
"Hey!" Erin chided, kneeling on the bed to kiss him good bye. "That's my baby you're talking about." Robert's hands slid up to caress her throat as their lips met. "So, I guess I'll see you when I see you."  
  
"Guess so," she grinned, squirming out of his grasp before he could change her mind about leaving. She called to her dog, and the two left the room together. "She'll come to the doggie door if I call her, right?" Robert heard the rattle of the chain leash, Sophie's sharp, excited bark, then the thud of the front door closing. With a groan, he threw back the bedclothes and headed for the bathroom. He showered and dressed at a leisurely pace, then made his own exit. After locking the door behind him, he easily slipped the key onto his keyring. Only then did it occur to him that, even though she had been on her way to his house to retrieve his dog, she never asked for a key herself. He started to wonder what that meant, when a voice from inside welled up, filling his head.  
  
"Hello?! This is why we don't do this, remember? We don't have time to play guessing games, or to spend worrying about how she feels about what, or what she thinks about anything! You don't really want to waste your energy trying to glean the correct meaning from everything she does or says, do you? It's all crap, remember? A stupid waste of time."  
  
He shook his head, trying to clear it, and slid into the Jaguar's driver seat. "So, what's a little wasted time?" He spoke the words aloud before putting the vehicle in gear. 


	5. Shadows of the Past

The next several days were little more than work and sleep for the pair. A couple of nights were spent at his place, a couple at hers, but the back and forth was surprisingly comfortable. Saturday ended around eleven p.m., in Erin's living room. She had been home since nine, but Robert had been detained in surgery. He walked into her house easily, locking the door behind him. He found Erin lounging on the couch, eating pizza in front of the television. Both dogs were at her feet, and she was absorbed in an action movie. Robert smiled inwardly. Outwardly, however, he put on his best scowl. "Sixteen hours of surgery and this is what I get? Pizza and beer and you in your sweats?"  
  
Unfazed, not even averting her eyes from the screen, she gestured to the kitchen. "There's wine in the fridge."  
  
"Oh, never mind." He moved to sit next to her, plucking a bottle of beer from the six pack on the coffee table. "Just give me a bottle opener." Focus still glued to the television, Erin took the bottle from him and unceremoniously twisted the top off. She handed it back and tossed the cap on the table without batting an eyelash. "Well, I could have done that," he griped, taking a few swallows.  
  
Erin giggled. "So why didn't you?"  
  
"'So why didn't you?'" He made a face at her before settling back into the sofa. He turned his attention to the movie that had her so engrossed, recognizing it only by the actor on screen. "I can't believe you're this into Jackie Chan films." He draped his arm along the back of the couch, and she wiggled her way into his embrace. "He's the best!" She insisted. "I can still remember watching 'Drunken Master' in the den with my dad. It was so cool." Robert allowed her words to sink in, and almost did not comment. After a moment, though, he stroked her hair gently.  
  
"You never talk about them much."  
  
Erin looked up at him, eyes soft and warm. "Makes most people uncomfortable," she explained. "When you lose both your parents in a car accident, they tend to fall to the bottom of the 'Appropriate Topics of Conversation' list. It's like people think the slightest mention of them will reduce me to a wailing, sniveling mess."  
  
Robert ran his fingers along the line of her jaw. "Does it?"  
  
Erin nodded easily. "Sometimes." The concern in Robert's face touched her, and she rose quickly, moving into the bedroom. She returned with a framed eight by ten photograph that he had seen but never commented on. In it, a younger Erin stood in a burnt orange cap and gown between a man with salt and pepper hair, and a woman with the same auburn mane as hers. "Meet Patrick and Irene Windsor." She smiled at the picture. "Mom, dad, this is Robert." She handed the frame to him as she continued speaking. "He was a Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force, enlisted for thirty years. Worked in recruiting service the last ten. She was a teacher. Middle school history, usually fourth or fifth grade. This was taken at my college graduation. I was twenty-one. Hook 'em Horns."  
  
"They died three years later?" Robert asked softly. Erin nodded. "How did it happen?" She shrugged. "Not really sure. It was raining, the roads were pretty slick." She rubbed her shoulders, as if feeling a slight chill. "They lived in a rural area, lots of deer, raccoon, rabbits. My dad probably swerved to avoid hitting something that darted out in front of them. He lost control of the car." She trailed off, and Robert pulled her against him.  
  
"It's okay," he soothed her. "You can stop there."  
  
Erin lay her head against his chest, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "He liked to golf," she mused. "She liked to buy shoes." They both laughed together, and he kissed the top of her head. "What about you?" She asked quietly. "What about your folks?" Robert cleared his throat gruffly. "Mom was great, dad was gone, and I must say, he wasn't missed." Erin looked up at him once more. "Do you remember him?" "Only when I have to." His short answer deterred her from inquiring further. He placed the frame gently on the end table and kicked off his shoes. "So tell me again what's so great about this Jackie Chan."  
  
With a mischievous grin, Erin picked up the remote control and switched the television off. She rose up on her knees, moving her body suggestively against his. "I'd rather talk about what's so great about this Robert Romano." "Ooh, my favorite subject," he smirked casually before taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.  
  
Later, they lay side by side in her bed, their bodies cooling beneath the sheets. Erin's fingers toyed gently with the fine hair that dusted his chest. Finally, she found the nerve to voice the question nagging her. "Did he - hurt you?"  
  
Robert opened his mouth to ask whom she was talking about, then realized exactly what she was asking. He considered ignoring the inquiry, but the words came out of his mouth before he was fully aware. "Not in the way you're thinking." He spoke coolly, unemotionally. "He never hit me, never molested me. He never touched my mother, either. Literally. Never touched her. Of course, you probably could have found his fingerprints on every cocktail waitress east of Saginaw." He took a ragged breath. "He would come home every day at five-fifteen. And he would sit in front of the TV, not moving, not speaking, until supper was on the table at six. He would eat without saying a word, and by six-thirty, he was gone again. Out the door to who knows where. And gone he would stay, until three, sometimes four in the morning. He'd fall in the front door, stagger up the stairs, and pass out until it was eight a.m., and time to start the whole thing over again." He paused for a moment, and Erin tightened her hold on him a bit. "And then, one day, he didn't come home. Just didn't come home. And it was the best day of my life. You know why?"  
  
Erin raised up on one elbow, shaking her head. "Why?"  
  
"Because it was the first time I heard my mother hum. She hummed while she cooked, she hummed while we ate, and she hummed while she did the dishes." Robert pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "So you see, I never missed him, because he was never really there in the first place." The two shared a moment of silence, and then Erin spoke in a soft, loving voice. "You know, you really are an amazing man."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"I do," she nodded sincerely. "Of course, I'm the only one ." With a growl, Robert rolled her beneath him, covering her laughing mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around him, moving her body to better accommodate his. As he moved his skilled, surgeon's fingers over her skin, she was struck once more by how startlingly right it felt being with him. Pushing back all the painful words and memories they'd shared, she allowed herself to be swept away, welcoming him as he melted into her. 


	6. Outbreak

As the days passed, it became more and more clear to the staff of the ER that something was up with their redheaded attending. She seemed to float through every shift, possessing a newfound optimism that made even the ever- cheerful Yosh a little suspicious. "No one's ever that happy without a reason," he confided to Susan one morning as they watched her from across the triage area. "I'm telling you," Susan insisted, "it's gotta be this new mystery man!"  
  
"I didn't know she was seeing someone!" Yosh gasped. "The only people I ever see her socialize with are you and Chen and Abby."  
  
"Trust me, there's somebody. She mentioned him a couple of months ago."  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
"Not much, and she hasn't mentioned him since. And it's not like I haven't been digging. But believe me, he's still in the picture. He has to be. We went out on Tuesday night, and the most gorgeous man asked her to dance - she didn't even do a double-take."  
  
Yosh watch alarm suddenly beeped, and he groaned a little. "I'd better get back upstairs. We'll talk about this more later." As he headed for the elevator, a very worried Gallant ran to Susan's side. "Dr. Lewis, Dr. Carter needs you."  
  
"Tell him I'll be there in a second."  
  
Gallant politely but firmly stood in her way. "I'm sorry ma'am. He said it's very urgent, and to make you come NOW." Concern washed over Susan and she nodded, following behind the young man. He led her to the suture room, and she could see Carter inside, hovering over a small blonde girl. Gallant knocked on the window, and he glanced up. Susan could see he was masked, and her alarm increased. She watched as Carter excused himself and came out of the room. "What is going on?"  
  
Erin was exchanging charts at the admit desk, making small talk with Chen and Jerry when Malik, Carter, Susan, Gallant, and Abby all gathered together. Susan and John broke the news that the children quarantined in the suture room were likely suffering from smallpox. After allowing a moment for the information to sink in, they all moved quickly into action as the ER went into full lockdown. Erin found Luka and filled him in, and then the two of them went to work on the remaining patients awaiting attention. She had no idea how much time had passed when Jerry called to her from across the room. "What is it?"  
  
"Phone for you."  
  
"Not now, Jerry, take a message!" She called back impatiently.  
  
"Dr. Windsor, I tried that! It's Dr. Romano. He insists on speaking to you. Now!"  
  
Erin excused herself from her patient, and crossed the room, taking the handset from Jerry, and lifting it to her ear. "Robert?"  
  
"Tell me you came in with your whole brain on duty this morning."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tell me you haven't been in direct contact."  
  
"Oh! No, I haven't."  
  
"Good," he cut her off. "You keep it that way."  
  
"Robert, I have to do my job." "And I am your boss," his voice barked out or the receiver. "And I'm telling you that today, your job is to stay the hell away from children who may be infected with highly contagious, deadly diseases. Do you understand me, Windsor? THAT'S an order!"  
  
His voice was belligerent, and his words were condescending, but all Erin could do was smile. She realized he was speaking from concern for her well being. She wanted nothing more than to tease him, to rub it in, but she decided instead to let it go. "Yes, sir," she replied smartly.  
  
"Good." His relief was audible. "The CDC Gestapo has arrived and sealed off the ER, so there's no way I can get down there." He glanced at his watch. "Look, no one knows how long this is going to take, so you just hang in there, okay?"  
  
"Okay," she grinned. "You, too. It can't be easy, being chief of staff in a hospital that's about to be quarantined."  
  
"Don't you worry about me," he said casually.  
  
"Well, then," Erin sighed, "I guess I'll see you when I see you."  
  
"Erin?" He spoke suddenly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
She stood at the admit desk, thunder-struck. He had said those words to her before, a couple of times, even. But never without her saying it to him first. She composed herself, and murmured, "I love you, too." Then she lay the telephone back in its cradle, and was swept back into the chaos of the ER.  
  
An eternity later, Erin rolled down her sleeve over the spot where she'd received the immunization required before she could leave the hospital. She stepped out into the ambulance bay, scanning the area for any familiar faces. Anonymous police personnel, a few CDC staff milling about, and Dr. Weaver. She walked over to her with a wry grin. "Been out here all day?" Kerry nodded, looking strained and fatigued. "It must have taken ten men to keep you out."  
  
"Erin, I'm sorry."  
  
"No, Dr. Weaver, it's okay!" She touched the woman's shoulder reassuringly. "I think we handled it all right, and I'm glad they stopped you from putting yourself at risk." The woman was still clearly feeling guilty, and Erin squeezed her arm. "It's okay, Kerry," she repeated. Dr. Weaver smiled gratefully, and the two glanced back at the ER. "So what now?"  
  
Kerry began speaking about press conferences and patient transfers when a burst of static exploded from the walkie-talkie on her hip, followed by the voice of Susan Lewis. At first, Erin couldn't make out what she was saying. Kerry turned up the volume, and she and Erin listened closely as Susan's near panic explanation emerged. The roof. Patient transfer via helicopter. An accident. Dr. Romano. Kerry was trying to absorb as much information as possible until she caught a glimpse of Erin's face, completely drained of color. "Erin? Are you all right?" Erin couldn't breathe, couldn't answer. All she could hear was the empty sound of the open radio channel. Then, Susan's voice. "He's gonna need blood, lots of blood."  
  
"Oh, my God," she gasped, then turned on her heel and bolted back into the hospital, despite the protests of several of the CDC employees. She ran to the elevator, which was waiting, doors open. She stabbed the button for roof access repeatedly. "Come on, come on, COME ON!"  
  
The doors slid shut just as two Chicago police officers rounded the corner. Erin could hear Kerry's voice in the distance: "Let her go! She's a doctor! She knows what she's doing!" And then the car was moving upward. Erin clung to the guardrail for strength. "Oh, please, dear God." The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. She lurched out and moved towards the roof access exit on legs that were suddenly numb. She took a deep breath before leaning heavily against the push-bar, and heaved it open.  
  
Her stomach fell at once, and her hand fluttered weakly to her mouth as she choked back a scream. Thirty feet away, Robert lay on his back on the chopper pad. His face was deathly pale, and he was unconscious. Lewis and Kovac were hovered over him, but Erin could not discern what they were doing. As she drew closer, she realized they were frantically clamping off arteries. Even thought the clinical part of her mind recognized and understood, it took the rest of her a few minutes to grasp that, a few inches below his left shoulder, Robert's arm was gone.  
  
Erin fell to her knees at Robert's side. Kovac handed her his belt and gestured for her to tourniquet the arm at the shoulder to try and reduce the bleeding. She did so automatically, wincing as the pressure she applied drew a moan from deep within his chest. She could see that he had vomited from the shock, and she gently cleaned his face with her bare hands. Then Luka was hollering over the din. "Let's get him on a gurney and get him inside." Working together, the three doctors managed to lift him, and they were moving towards the door.  
  
"His arm!" Erin suddenly gasped. "Where is his arm?"  
  
"Don't worry, we got it. We have to get him inside before he bleeds out!" Luka urged. She nodded, and they rushed forward, battering the door open and moving swiftly to the elevator. As they moved, Erin hovered close to Robert's ear, whispering reassurances. When they finally burst into the ER and settled into a trauma room, she and Luka went to work, inserting IV's and placing monitors over his heart. Suddenly, Chen and Pratt appeared, seemingly from nowhere. "He's lost half his volume! He needs blood," Erin commanded. "All the O neg and type specific you can get your hands on!"  
  
"But the blood bank is shut down." Chen began.  
  
"BREAK IN IF YOU HAVE TO!" Erin was bordering on hysterical, and this was not lost on Pratt. and he sprinted off down the corridor. "And ice!" Luka called to Jing-Mei. "Lots of it!"  
  
Amazingly, Robert's voice emerged weakly from his throat. His eyes opened a crack, and a look of dismayed recognition passed over his face. "Ohh, God. I'm at County." Erin leaned protectively over him, taking his remaining hand in hers. "Robert, it's me. I'm here. I'm here and you're going to be okay." She stroked his cheek gently as he tried to focus on her face.  
  
".dizzy." he slurred slightly, and she tried to shush him. Undaunted, he murmured her name. She leaned in even closer, her ear almost resting against his mouth. "Listen to me." She nodded, concentrating intently. "I love you," he whispered, and Erin could feel her body begin to tremble. She lay her fingers gently over his mouth, trying to silence him.  
  
"I love you, Robert," her voice quivered. "Now, just hush, and let us take care of you." His grip on her hand tightened, and he willed his dark eyes into focus.  
  
"I need you to know that I love you."  
  
"I do," she insisted. "I do. Now, please, please, try and relax."  
  
She trailed off as his eyelids fluttered, then fell. Luka's voice bore into her head. "Lost his pulse. Starting CPR." As he began compressions, Erin scrambled to find a scope and ET tube. She forced her shaking hands to still as she moved the scope into place and guided the tube down his throat. "I'm in," she announced. Luka paused compressions long enough to help her get a bag in place, then they resumed artificial respiration together.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, Pratt reappeared with an armload of blood bags and frenetically set up transfusion. Erin was all set to look for a BP when the trauma room doors swung open. Her knees weakened in relief as she found herself face to face with Donald Anspaugh. "Oh, thank God," she murmured. The bustle of activity continued around her, but all she could see was Robert's pale, unresponsive face. All she could hear was the puff of the bag blowing air into his lungs.  
  
And then, they were wheeling him out and up to an OR. She wasn't aware of her legs moving, only saw herself floating along as if in a dream. And then Luka's hands were pulling hers from the cold metal of the bed rails. "Dr. Windsor," his voice as through a fog. "They have to take him in. You have to let him go." She watched the gurney disappear through the OR doors. After they swung shut, she found herself alone with Dr. Kovac. He was looking at her with a mixture of surprise and sympathy. She met his gaze with raw, red eyes.  
  
"How long?" He asked in a quiet voice.  
  
She breathed a shuddering sigh. "A few months. Since Mark died." With that, the shock she had been fighting took control, and Luka had to catch her as her strength failed. She melted into his arms, and her tears finally came. Luka rested his cheek against the top of her head, rocking her gently as she cried. He guided her slowly to the waiting area, where she sank gratefully into a chair. She was shaking uncontrollably from head to toe, and he walked thoughtfully away.  
  
He returned a few minutes later with a blanket and a cup of coffee from the vending machine. "It's lousy," he smiled a little as he handed it to her. "But it's hot." She accepted the cup and sipped mechanically, and he draped the blanket around her shoulders. "The CDC, the cops? They didn't say we have to get out of here?"  
  
"I don't think they even know we're in here," he said with an ironic chuckle. "Don't worry." He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "We're not going anywhere." Still trembling violently, Erin accepted his offer of comfort, and leaned her head against him. They sat that way, in the dark, waiting. 


	7. Waiting is the Hardest Part

Hours later, Anspaugh emerged from the OR. Erin had miraculously drifted off in Luka's embrace. Even though he was as gentle as possible rousing her, she came awake with a full body jerk. Her eyes moved in a panic from Luka to Dr. Anspaugh, and she lurched to her feet.  
  
"Robert?" Her voice was timid.  
  
Donald gave her a wry smile. "He's stabilized, and we were able to reattach," he explained. "I don't know exactly how much function he'll regain, but he's got the best chances anyone in his situation could have." Erin covered her face with her hands, sobbing with relief and heartache, and san back into her chair. Donald looked from her to Kovac, his face a mask of confusion. "Am I missing something?" He asked as Luka gently pulled him aside. "She seems quite upset."  
  
"Apparently she and Dr. Romano are .involved." Luka explained in a murmur.  
  
"Romantically?" Kovac nodded. "Well, bully for Robert," Donald commended heartily. He moved to sit next to Erin, laying a comforting hand on her knee. "Dr. Windsor, he's going to be just fine. We're making arrangements to have him moved, although, I'm not sure where yet. He's triggering the vent on his own, but I think it's best we wait until he's settled before we extubate."  
  
She tried to smile at him, but her eyes were wet and full of anguish. "Can I see him please?"  
  
Anspaugh nodded silently, taking her arm and helping her to her feet. Luka followed behind them as they walked into recovery. Erin made her way to Robert's right side and took his hand in hers. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here, and Donald says you're going to be fine." The monitor sounding out the beats of his heart continued it's uniform beeping. She leaned in closer. "I know you can hear me, Robert. I know you're in there somewhere." His finger twitched against her palm, probably just a reflex, but it was enough to calm her a bit. She looked up at Anspaugh. "Will they let me go with him?"  
  
"I'll make sure of it." Donald moved closer to her. "He's very lucky to have you. He's got a long, hard road ahead of him, and he's going to need all the support he can get."  
  
Erin nodded, and a tear fell from her cheek onto Robert's arm. She hastily wiped it away. Donald checked the monitor leads one last time, then turned to leave. "We'll give you a moment alone before we move him." He gestured for Luka to follow him. Erin held out her hand. He accepted it, gently squeezing her fingers. "Thank you," she said softly. Kovac dropped a small bow, and then slipped quietly from the room. Erin sank to her knees, resting her arms and chin on the cold metal of the guardrail.  
  
"I know you've always fancied yourself the dashing surgeon," she whispered. "Well, let me tell you something, baby: you look much better standing over the table than laying on it. So, what's say we not try this again, okay?" She ran her hand over his smooth head before kissing him gently in the center, a gesture she knew he detested. "Sorry, sweetie, but if you don't like it, you'd better wake up and tell me to stop." This time she knew it was no mistake when his fingers tightened the smallest fraction around hers. "Okay, okay. That's good enough. For now."  
  
The doors swung open, and Donald, Luka and two EMT's walked into the room. "Someone call for a cab to Saint Anthony's?"  
  
"That would be us." Erin rose to her feet and helped wheel the gurney outside. The EMT's loaded it into the back of a waiting ambulance, and Erin hugged Luka tightly. "Thank you again." Then she turned to Donald. "Dr. Anspaugh."  
  
"Now, you just go and see that he gets settled in. Oh, and make sure you warn the staff. I doubt Rocket will be in a pleasant mood when he wakes up." Erin actually found herself laughing, and leaned in to kiss the surgeon's cheek. "Thank you," she smiled warmly. Dr. Anspaugh took her hand and helped her into the rig, then he and Luka swung the doors shut.  
  
As they made the drive to St. Anthony's, Robert's heart rate spiked from it's previously steady ninety-two up to one hundred eleven. "Is he having arrhythmia?" One of the paramedics asked, glancing at the monitor in concern. Erin could see sluggish movement beneath his eyelids and shook her head.  
  
"Anesthetic's wearing off." She opened the drug box and surveyed its contents. She selected a vial and syringe. "Pushing ten of diazepam," she reported, inserting the needle into his IV line and pressing the plunger. After a few moments, Robert's heart rate dropped back to eighty-seven, and Erin sighed heavily. "What's our ETA?"  
  
Moments later, the ambulance arrived at St. Anthony's patient receiving bay, and she lost herself in the bustle of the transport. She soon found herself alone at Robert's bedside with very little memory of how she got there. A young man in scrubs and a lab coat appeared in the doorway. "This is Robert Romano from Cook County General?" Erin nodded, and he crossed the room briskly. "I'm Tim Galloway, surgical resident. I spoke with a Dr. Anspaugh? About admission?" Erin was still nodding mechanically, so the young man pressed on. "Dr. Malcolm, our head of orthopedics, won't be in until tomorrow morning. But it's been a quiet night. I'm sure I'll be able to give Dr. Romano the attention he needs." Erin still stood, immobile, so he took her hand and shook it firmly. "And you are?"  
  
"Windsor. Erin. I work at County as well."  
  
"Well, then, Dr. Windsor, would you care to assist me in getting that tube out of your boss?"  
  
She moved automatically through the extubation, and waited tensely after the tube was clear. After a few seconds, Robert's chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Erin breathed a shuddery sigh of relief, and her face seemed to clear. Dr. Galloway made a few notes on the chart, then took the opportunity to address her while she seemed to be more in focus. "We're going to order him up some new meds," he explained. "He'll probably be out for a day or two." Erin nodded again, not catching the meaning in the man's voice. "You should take advantage of that. Go home, get some rest." She opened her mouth to object, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Look, doctor, I know you want to be here when he wakes up, but that's not going to happen for quite a while. And when he does wake up, you'll want to be one hundred percent. He'll need you to be one hundred percent. You try and wait it out here, and you'll never make it. That won't do either of you any good."  
  
Erin relented, suddenly remembering the lockdown, and realizing she was wearing the same clothes she'd dressed in almost forty hours before. She looked down and winced at her soiled lab coat. Dr. Galloway followed her gaze. "We can launder that for you here and have it ready tomorrow morning," he offered. She smiled gratefully and began to slide it off her shoulders. It was then that she caught sight of the front of her blouse, which was covered in blood. As it sank in that it was Robert's, she began to shake, pulling the stained material away from her skin. Dr. Galloway rushed from the room, returning a moment later with a fresh scrub top. Erin accepted it numbly. "Look, leave me your numbers, and I promise, I'll have you called or paged if there is any change." Clearly, uncomfortable, he left once more, pulling the door closed this time. It had barely latched before Erin was ripping the shirt from her body in horror. She realized he camisole was stained as well, and tore it off as well. Then she hurried to the sink and frantically washed her chest and stomach before dropping the scrub top over her head. She splashed cold water on her face, and forced herself to regain control.  
  
She returned to Robert's side for a moment, listening to his breathing. Then she bent over and kissed his lips tenderly. "I'm going to go check on the girls," she whispered in a choked voice. "Maybe grab a shower. But I'll be back before you wake up. I promise." She kissed him once more, then lifted the metal clipboard from the foot of the bed. She jotted down her home number and pager number. Then, replacing the chart, she forced herself to exit the room, dumping her blood stained clothing in the biohazard bin on her way out.  
  
She hailed a cab outside, and almost directed the female driver back to County before remembering that Robert had driven her to work the previous morning. It seemed like years had passed since they exchanged a secret goodbye in the parking garage before going separate ways. She closed her eyes and lay her head back against the vinyl seat. Arriving at home, she fished a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket. "I'm sorry it's such a lousy tip," she held it out to the cabbie. The woman regarded her thoughtfully, then brushed her hand away. "This one's on me, honey. Looks like you've paid enough today." Erin barely had time to thank her, and she was gone. It dawned on Erin that, since Robert had driven, her keys were locked inside the house. "Dammit," she muttered, plodding her way to the garage door. God smiled - it was unlocked.  
  
As she stepped into the hallway, both dogs trotted over to greet her. "Hey girls, thank the Lord for doggie doors, huh?" As she made her way to the bedroom, Sophie ambled after her, but Gretel remained planted at the door. "Come on, girl," Erin called weakly. The dog turned her dark head and gave a plaintive whine. "I know," Erin commiserated. "I miss him, too. Come on." At long last, the animal relented and followed reluctantly. The three entered the bedroom together, and the dogs took their usual positions, one on one side of the bed, one draped across the foot. "Nobody's coming to kick you out tonight, either," Erin mused sadly, sitting down and stroking their soft fur. She caught sight of something on the floor, half under the bed. She pulled it out, and realized it was Robert's shirt, discarded a few nights before. She pressed it to her cheek, breathing in his scent. Then she lifted her pillow and slid it into the garment. Finally, she lay down, hugging it to her chest and burying her face in its cool softness. Fatigue and distress overcame her, and she was gone, not quite having passed out, not quite having fallen asleep.  
  
She barely moved for fourteen hours, sleeping heavily and without dreaming. When she finally awoke, blinking swollen eyes in the daylight, she tried to convince herself that all the horror was just a nightmare, that none of it had really happened. But reality would not be denied; she was alone in the bed, she was dressed in a scrub top labeled "St. Anthony's", and she was filled with a profound sadness that twisted her stomach. Rising heavily from the bed, she reached for her pager. Nothing. She shuffled to the kitchen to check her answering machine - no new messages. With a heavy sigh, she dragged herself to her bathroom and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, face pale as death, hair mousy and tangled. She undressed wearily and stepped under the jet of steaming water.  
  
After showering, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to just throw something on and dash out the door. But she couldn't bear the thought of her appearance making things harder for Robert. So she forced herself to take her time, to braid her hair and apply a few touches of make-up. Then she dressed quickly, and stepped into the shoes she'd discarded at her bedside the night before. Hurrying to the kitchen, she filled the dog dishes with food and water, grabbed her purse and keys, and bolted out the door.  
  
Erin was crossing the lobby of St. Anthony's when her pager began to beep. Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized it was indeed from Robert's surgeon, and she raced past the elevators to the stairwell. She burst into his room moments later, not sure what she may find. Thankfully, it wasn't much. Robert still lay in the same position as when she'd left, seemingly still under sedation. A doctor stood at his bedside, dressed in surgical scrubs. He was very tall, and had striking green eyes. His head snapped up at Erin's dramatic appearance. "Dr. Windsor?"  
  
"Yes," she nodded breathlessly.  
  
"Wow, that was fast!"  
  
"I was already in the lobby when I got your page." She hurried to Robert's side. "How is he?"  
  
"Not bad, actually." The doctor's brow furrowed slightly. "I take it from your concern that you are not Dr. Romano's primary physician." Erin shook her head, still absorbed in inspecting Robert's face and arm. "Then why are you down as his primary contact?"  
  
"I'm his girlfriend." She trailed off, realizing she had never said those words aloud before. Her face softened, and she stroked Romano's sleeping face. "I'm his girlfriend," she repeated. "And I'm also an ER attending at Cook County, so."  
  
"Ah, I see. That's actually quite fortunate. Maybe you can be of more assistance than the other redhead who was here earlier."  
  
"Other redhead?" Erin looked up, confused.  
  
"Yes. She's also a doctor at County. Red hair, reading glasses, walks with a cane."  
  
"Oh! Dr. Weaver!" Erin exclaimed. Now it was her turn to look confused. "Dr. Weaver was here?"  
  
"Mm-hmm. About an hour ago."  
  
"Oh. Well, what can I help you with that she couldn't?"  
  
The doctor drew her attention to the fingers of Robert's left hand. "I'm quite concerned about the duskiness in these digits. I need to know if we should operate once more." He continued speaking, explaining the pros and cons of a second surgery, but Erin could barely hear him. She stood numbly waiting until his lips stopped moving. "You're a surgeon." She said matter-of-factly. "What would you want?"  
  
The doctor pursed his lips for a moment. "I'd want the surgery."  
  
"Then do it." She held out her hand for the chart. He gave it over, and she signed her name in the necessary spot.  
  
"I'll arrange for his transport. It may be half an hour or so." Erin glanced at the metal frame chair sitting next to the bed. "Got anything more comfortable than that?" She asked. He nodded, saying he'd have an orderly round her up something else. He moved to exit the room, then turned back. "I'm Stephen Malcolm, by the way. I'm head of orthopedics here."  
  
She smiled feebly. "Erin." The surgeon departed, closing the door behind him. Erin moved closer to Robert's right side, laying her hand on his shoulder. She noticed his lips, dry and cracked, and reached for her purse. She fumbled through until she found her lip balm. She dabbed some on her fingertip and spread it over the parched skin. His head lolled to the side a bit, and a low sound emerged from his throat. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as she whispered his name. His eyes opened the tiniest crack. "Hey, gorgeous," the words were badly slurred but understandable.  
  
"Hey, yourself," she smiled, a genuine smile, and leaned in to kiss him. He moved his mouth weakly against hers, and she felt his fingers twitching against her hand. She pulled back slowly, careful not to jostle him. She took the cup from the bedside table and placed the straw between his lips, and he took a few halting sips. Then he spoke again, a tad clearer this time. "Come here." The fingers of his right hand twitched again. Erin lowered the guardrail of the bed and sat down next to him, taking his hand in both of hers. He seemed to slip out of consciousness again, so she simply waited, allowing a few tears to slip silently down her cheeks. Eventually, the door swung open, and two men in crisp white uniforms walked through. "Transport?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Erin slid carefully off the bed and released Robert's limp hand. His eyes fluttered. "Erin." It came out sounding "urn", and her heart twisted at the sound. "I'm right here, Robert," she reassured him, bending so close her lips brushed his cheek as she spoke. She continued whispering to him, telling him she loved him, as one of the men injected a sedative into his IV line. A moment later, the same orderly spoke gently to her. "I'm afraid we have to take him, ma'am. Don't worry, he's already out."  
  
"I know," she nodded. She stepped back and, once again, watched Robert being wheeled way. His gurney had barely cleared the door when a familiar face appeared. "Dr. Galloway?" The young resident smiled at her, and pulled a reclining chair into the room. "Swiped it from OB," he grinned. "Promise you won't tell?"  
  
"My lips are sealed," she giggled a little. "Thank you so much." Draped over the back of the chair was her lab coat, and seeing it made her shudder a bit. Dr. Galloway noticed, and tried a comforting smile. "You look much better than the last time we met. Got some sleep?"  
  
"More like passed out." Erin sighed. "Any idea how long they might be?"  
  
"I would guess at least two or three hours." He noted her crestfallen expression "Hungry?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"When's the last time you ate anything?"  
  
"Oh, God," she raised a hand to her forehead. "I don't even remember."  
  
"Come on. Let me show you the cafeteria." He saw glance at the empty spot where the bed had been. "Don't worry, I'll have you back way before they're done." Relenting, Erin allowed him to lead her out of the room and downstairs.  
  
The two ordered lunch, and sat at a table by the window. They made small talk while Erin picked morosely at her food. Galloway, eyed her curiously for a moment, then ducked his head to put his face in her line of sight. "He's going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" Erin nodded, running an exhausted hand over her face. She suddenly put down her fork and rose from the table. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just not very good company right now. I really think I need to be alone." She began walking away, and the young man hurried after her.  
  
"Dr. Windsor, don't just go up there and wait in that empty room."  
  
He allowed his sentence to drift off, as he saw she wasn't even hearing him. 


	8. The Mourning After

Erin made her way slowly back to Robert's room. She found the remote control and switched on the television. She scanned the channels, and settled on some news program. She stared at the screen blankly for what seemed like an eternity, when the click of the door latch turned her head. Kerry Weaver stuck her head in, seeming surprised by the empty space where the bed should have been. Then she turned and saw Erin, and moved into the room. "Hey, Kerry," she greeted her with a small smile. "Dr. Malcolm said you'd been here."  
  
Dr. Weaver crossed the room to gently stroke the young woman's shoulder. "Hello, Erin." The warmth of her tone and the sympathy in her face made Erin laugh a little. "Somebody's been talking to Dr. Kovac."  
  
Kerry nodded. "I don't think he intended it as gossip. We were all very worried about you - none of us could understand why you reacted so violently to the situation. Luka told us what he knew so we would."  
  
"Who exactly is 'us'?"  
  
"Well, myself, Susan Lewis, Dr. Carter and Abby." Erin's expression registered her surprise, and Kerry hastened to explain further. "We were discussing the quarantine when it came up."  
  
"The ER's still under quarantine?"  
  
"Yes, for the next two weeks. John and Abby, Jing-Mei and Pratt in the ER, and the family of the little boy in respiratory."  
  
Erin could not stifle her laughter. "What a nightmare - the job you just can't leave." She grasped the back of her neck and pulled, trying to ease some of the tension in her muscles. Kerry glanced once again at the empty space in the middle of the room. "So where is Dr. Romano?"  
  
Erin followed her gaze. "He's back in the OR. The surgeon felt there was cause for concern."  
  
"The duskiness in his fingers?" Erin nodded. "Who did they get to give consent?"  
  
Erin waved her hand. "You're looking at her."  
  
Kerry was a bit taken aback. "Are you sure that was the right decision?"  
  
Erin was slightly annoyed. "I can't believe you even have to ask that, Kerry. First of all, I thought the one thing we all understood about Robert was his professional ambition. Of course he would want the most aggressive measures taken. Secondly, if you listened to anything Luka had to say, you should know I would never do anything that wasn't in Robert's best interest."  
  
Dr. Weaver became a little defensive. "I understand that you have the best intentions. I just wondered if you felt the scope of your knowledge was wide enough to make an informed decision."  
  
"Wait a second!" Erin could feel the rage and frustration that had been swirling inside her taking focus. "People with no medical training whatsoever make these kinds of judgement calls on behalf of their loved ones every day! I'm a doctor, and I love him! I'm not sure how much wider my scope could be!"  
  
"I understand that, I just meant."  
  
Erin cut her off with an impatient flick of her wrist. "Kerry, let's get one thing straight, okay? You are not my boss here. You are not Robert's doctor; you're not even his friend! In this room, you are little more than an interested bystander! If you can't handle that and keep your mouth shut about it, then get out! And don't bother coming back!" She turned her back for a moment, trying to compose herself. When she heard Dr. Weaver beginning to move towards the door, she spoke again, gentler this time. "Kerry, wait." She turned to face her once again. "Look, I'm sorry. I never expected to find myself in this kind of situation. I'm pissed off and frustrated, and I don't mean to take it out on you."  
  
"I understand," Kerry spoke softly. "There's no need for apologies." She limped heavily back to Erin's side and put her arm around the young woman's shoulders. "At least you've got these next two weeks to be with him, take care of him, help him figure out where to go from here. And I'll do my best to help out wherever I can."  
  
"Be careful, Kerry. You know how paranoid he can get. Don't make him think you're trying to engage him in a power struggle now that he's got a strike against him." Kerry laughed a little, but Erin took her arm, her expression serious. "I mean it, Kerry. I have a feeling, when he's back on his feet, he's going to be a force to be reckoned with." Dr. Weaver nodded in understanding, and headed for the exit once more. As she pulled the door open, she looked back over her shoulder. "Page me when he's out, okay? I'd like to hear how it all went."  
  
And then she was gone, leaving Erin alone in the silence. She paced the room like a caged animal until, an eternity later, the doors opened once more. Dr. Malcolm entered the room with a nurse, pushing Robert's gurney back into place. He regarded Erin's anxious expression with a wide smile. "Looks good," he affirmed. "Looks very, very good."  
  
Erin sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."  
  
"He'll probably be out another hour or so. I'll be back to check on him later, and explain where we're at."  
  
He exited the room with purpose, leading Erin to believe he had other matters to attend to. It didn't matter much to her. She pulled the lounge chair closer to Robert's bedside and sank into it, reclining it as far as it would go. She spread her lab coat over herself in lieu of a blanket, hugged her arms over her chest, and waited for him to awaken.  
  
  
  
  
  
Pain.  
  
His shoulder was on fire, his fingers resting on a bed of needles.  
  
He turned his head to the left and swore he could feel his brain sloshing from one side to the other.  
  
Grimace.  
  
His eyes opened slowly. His arm, a field of white plaster, propped at an angle, secured with rods and pins.  
  
Fuck.  
  
His throat grainy, mouth dry, tongue swollen. Water.  
  
He turned his neck again, saw the cup on the rolling table. Snagged the stand with his right hand and pulled it over in front of him. Grasped the cup, lifted it to his lips. Not very cold, but liquid. He drank the cup dry, then simply let his arm fall back to his side. His eyes screwed into focus.  
  
She was asleep in her chair, chest rising and falling with slow, languid breaths. His body flooded with intense relief. He let his gaze rest on her, memorizing every detail of her face, every angle of bone, every curve of flesh. Her eyelashes fluttered a bit and her eyes opened. She yawned, and stretched her arms over her head, arching her back. He felt the slight stirring of activity below his belt line. Oh, you kid, he thought to himself. Her gaze moved to him, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, you!" Her voice was music. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Enjoying the view." His voice was gravelly, and he tried to clear his throat. She jumped out of her chair and rushed to his side. He chuckled. "Take it easy, gorgeous. It's not like I'm going anywhere." She took the cup from his hand and filled it with fresh water. Then she handed it back to him, and he drank once more. Colder, this time. Much better.  
  
"How long have you been up?" She asked, gazing down at him with relief and affection that was almost palpable.  
  
"Long enough to remember that you look like an angel when you sleep." He cocked his head to the side. "Come here." She leaned in obediently and he caught her lips with his. More twitching below the waist. Easy, big fella. A sudden shot of white-hot fire from shoulder to finger. He winced again, his breath hissing from between clenched teeth.  
  
Erin pulled back in alarm. "Pain?"  
  
Robert nodded, biting back the scream building in his throat.  
  
"I'll get the nurse." She groped for the call button, but he grabbed her arm, shaking his head violently, teeth still grinding together. Erin pressed her hand to her mouth as she watched him struggle. "Fuck!" He shouted angrily, collapsing deeper into the pillow as the stinging agony finally ebbed. Erin reached over and wiped the sweat from his brow with her bare hand. "Let me get the nurse," she pleaded weakly. "Let them give you something."  
  
Robert shook his head once again. "No." He said firmly. "I can take it. Reminds me it's still there." "Then tell me what I can do."  
  
Robert moved as far to his left as he could, making a space next to him. He patted it with his right hand. "Come here," he repeated. She looked at him uncertainly. "I'll be a good boy, I promise." Relenting, she kicked off her shoes and very carefully eased herself into the bed next to him. He drew her into the crook of his arm, and she lay her head down on his chest. He tugged absently on her braid. "Much better," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. They lay together in silence until Dr. Malcolm returned. He entered the room with hearty presence, a swagger in his stride and a broad grin curling his mouth. The look of envy that passed over Robert's face was brief, but it was not lost on Erin.  
  
"Don't you two look comfortable?" The surgeon observed.  
  
Erin sat up quickly despite Robert's tightening grasp on her shoulder, but Dr. Malcolm waved her back down. "Please, don't get up on my account." His voice was sincere. "I'm a big believer in the healing powers of human touch." He turned his attention fully to Romano. "Robert, you old son of a bitch! Damn shame that it took this for us to cross paths again."  
  
"Stephen." Robert's voice was not quite as enthusiastic, but Erin could detect genuine respect. "I'm glad it was you and not that old hack Davidson."  
  
"Believe me, so am I." The two men exchanged cursory smiles, then Dr. Malcolm flipped the chart open. "The bad news is your arm was severed approximately four inches below the shoulder by the tail rotor of one of the University of Chicago's medical choppers."  
  
"Stephen, do the words 'no shit' mean anything to you?" Robert asked dryly.  
  
"The good news," Malcolm continued, undaunted, "is that your arm was severed approximately four inches below the shoulder by the tail rotor of one of the University of Chicago's medical choppers."  
  
"Excuse me if I don't laugh at your little irony there." Robert's voice, growing impatient.  
  
Erin rubbed his chest, trying to keep him calm. "What does that mean, Dr. Malcolm?" She asked.  
  
"It means it was a clean slice. No ragged loose ends to muddle through. It was also a brilliant stroke of luck that the accident happened in the presence of other physicians, people educated in exactly what to do, given the circumstances."  
  
"Luck?!" Robert snorted incredulously.  
  
"So vascular integrity was pretty well preserved?" Erin pressed, trying to keep the discussion focused.  
  
"Very well preserved. In fact, I'd say that, save for the scar, you may never know the accident happened in the first place." Erin sighed in relief, but Robert's body in her embrace was still taut as a live wire.  
  
"So I'll operate again?"  
  
Dr. Malcolm's expression faltered a bit. "Well, Robert, you've got some serious rehabilitation ahead of you. This kind of healing process takes a delicate touch and a good deal of time."  
  
"Can the diplomatic bullshit and shoot straight with me Steve," Robert spat. "Will I cut again or not?"  
  
Malcolm leveled his shoulders and spoke simply. "I'd say there's a fifteen percent chance of your regaining occupational function." Erin felt Robert's body go limp, and her heart sank. She looked up into his eyes and found them flat and muddy. "Anything is possible, Robert," the surgeon insisted. "Given time, and knowing your bull-headed nature."  
  
"Are you still talking?" Robert snapped. "Get out."  
  
"A physical therapist will be in shortly."  
  
"Get the fuck out!" Robert roared, nearly knocking Erin from the bed in the process. She looked at Dr. Malcolm helplessly, sending an apology with her eyes. His features warmed, telling her he understood. Then he turned and vanished from the room as quickly as he had come. She turned her face up to Robert's, struggling to find something to say. She watched him closely as he began to shake his head. His brown eyes began to fill with smoldering rage and determination. "He's wrong." He looked down at her, clenching his jaw. "He's wrong. He has to be." His ire began to crumble into naked fear. "It's all I am, all I'm really good at." His eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Don't you understand? I've got to get it back. It's all I have."  
  
His words stung a little, and she took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Oh, no it isn't. Not anymore. You've got me, and I'm not going anywhere." The tiniest light returned to his eyes, and she pressed forward. "Robert, I don't know the right words to say. I can't say I know what you're going through, because I don't. I can try to imagine, but I'm not even sure if that could come anywhere close. And I don't want to sit her and patronize you, because I know you'd hate that." She swallowed hard and lay her forehead against his. "The only thing I know to say is that I love you. I love you so much, and no matter what happens, I'm going to be there." She repeated herself with feeling. "No matter what happens, I am going to be there."  
  
Robert's expression cleared a bit and he even managed a wry smirk. "See? You did know the right thing to say." He pulled her into his embrace, partially because he needed the comfort of her body, partially because he didn't want her to see the doubt that he couldn't keep out of his eyes.  
  
As the sedatives that kept Robert under during surgery continued to ebb from his system, the flares of pain in his arm became more frequent, as well as more severe. Erin pleaded with him to call the nurse, to take something, but he stubbornly refused each time. Finally, after waking for the third time in the night to his barely controlled groans of agony, she stood up and leaned over him, her face ashen. "Robert, I cannot watch you go through this."  
  
"Then leave!" He shouted. "I have no intentions of lying here like a human paperweight while little Mary Candystriper pumps me full of that shit! No, thank you! You can't take it? Fine! Go! Don't blame you if you do! But quit turning those puppy dog eyes on me and begging me to take a hit! I won't do it! I won't!"  
  
Erin pressed her hand to her mouth as she weathered his outburst, and her shoulders began to shake. Robert was suddenly ashamed of himself. "Oh, Christ, Erin. I'm sorry."  
  
But she was shaking her head, and when she moved her hand, he could see that she was laughing, not crying. "It's good to see the old Robert's still in there." She squeezed his hand. "Will you at least take some ibuprofen?" He relented, nodding, and she let go a shuddering sigh. "I'll be right back." She left the room quietly and headed for the nurse's station. The woman seated at the desk was quite young, and she did not look pleased about being there. Erin leaned heavily on the counter. "Romano in G24 needs six hundred ibuprofen, four hundred acetaminophen."  
  
"Not without a signature from Dr. Malcolm." The girl said snippily.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Not - without - a signature - from Dr. Malcolm." She repeated impatiently.  
  
Erin planted one hand on her hip. "You've got orders there that say he can have morphine and vicoden, neither of which he's taken, by the way. And you won't give him some Tylenol?"  
  
"Not without - " "  
  
Yeah, I get it." Erin snarled a bit. "You're a sucker for signatures. Here, I'll give you mine."  
  
"You don't have privileges here, Doctor. I cannot lend any weight to your instructions."  
  
Erin clenched her fists in rage. "Now, listen here, you little bitch - "  
  
Suddenly, two gentle hands fell on her shoulders. She turned to see Dr. Galloway standing behind her. "It's okay," he reassured her. "Darcy," he spoke thinly, "why are you giving Dr. Windsor such a difficult time?"  
  
"Why doesn't she talk the one armed wonder into taking the real stuff?"  
  
"Oh, that's it!" Erin lunged as if to hurdle the desk, wanting nothing more than to wrap her hands around the young woman's throat and squeeze. Dr. Galloway's grip on her tightened, and he barked at the nurse. "Get her what she asked for. NOW!" With a sarcastic click of her tongue, the girl flounced out of her seat and headed for the drug locker. Tim pulled Erin to the side, turning her to face him. "I am so sorry about that. Seems young Darcy there would rather collect unemployment that work here, so she's trying to get herself fired. That little scene may actually have done it," he said, his tone a bit impressed.  
  
Erin drew a shuddering breath, the looked up at him gratefully. "You have a knack of appearing just in time to save the day. Thank you." She moved to return to Robert's room, but Galloway caught her sleeve. "You wouldn't want to go grab a cup of coffee to take back in there, would you?" Erin looked at him, a bit confused at first, then mildly embarrassed for him.  
  
"No," she said, as gently as she possibly could. "I want to get back and check on Robert."  
  
"You don't remember me do you?"  
  
She shook her head, brow furrowing. "I'm sorry. Should I?"  
  
The young man stuck his hands in his lab coat sheepishly. "Not really. We only crossed paths once or twice." He smiled a bit. "I was an intern at county two years ago."  
  
"Oh," Erin smiled back, still a bit confused.  
  
"You know, I know he's a great surgeon, but as a person - "  
  
She cut him off with a shake of her head. "Dr. Galloway, this isn't appropriate." She turned to walk away, but he rushed after her.  
  
"He's the reason I transferred here. I couldn't take being his personal whipping boy. And to think that someone like him could get a hold of someone like you - "  
  
Erin whirled on him, trying desperately to keep control.  
  
"You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. And you don't know anything about him, either."  
  
"But Erin," he saw her start at his casual use of her name and back- pedaled quickly. "I mean, Dr. Windsor."  
  
"Stop it, Dr. Galloway. You're treading on dangerous ground, tossing around your opinion about a patient like that. Please don't make me have to report you to Dr. Malcolm." She strode quickly away, rushing for the sanctuary of Robert's hospital room. She found him sweating, still struggling to bite back the pain. She wet a washcloth at the sink and returned to his bedside, laying it tenderly across his brow. "I love you," he said, his voice quaking. She leaned over and kissed him warmly.  
  
Her lips were still on his when she heard the door swing open. Dr. Galloway crept in and crossed the room. "Dr. Romano, I must ask you, are you sure you don't want anything stronger?" Robert somehow managed to shake his head. Tim relented, handing a paper cup with four pills in it to Erin. She accepted it and assisted Robert in taking them. When she moved to the sink to fill the water pitcher, Tim stepped up beside her and pressed a syringe into her hand. She glanced down at it, then back up at him. "What is this?"  
  
"It's 20 of Demerol. In case he changes his mind." Erin nodded, taking the needle and lying it on the top shelf above the sink. Then she returned to Robert's side without a word. Tim looked at her regretfully for a moment, then made a hasty exit. "If I didn't know better," Robert grimaced, "I'd say Pee-Wee there has a crush on you."  
  
Erin let her head fall back. "Doesn't everybody?" She joked wearily. She carefully climbed into the bed, and Robert was only too happy to welcome her back. 


	9. Finding Normal

Thankfully, by the next morning, Robert had reconsidered his position on pain management. He began allowing Erin and the nursing staff to administer boosters of Demerol at regular intervals. After some intense negotiation, he was even able to convince Stephen Malcolm to discharge him after only two weeks of observation. It was agreed upon that, since Erin was a doctor and could stay with him full time, he would be allowed to convalesce at home.  
  
On the day of his release, Erin spent the morning packing what she would need and moving it to his house. It felt a bit odd, placing her clothes in his dresser and closet without him there. The number for his maid service was in his book by the phone; she called and asked them to send someone out to give the place a quick once-over. Then she stepped into the garage. She had taken a cab to County General the day before to fetch his car, and now, she climbed behind the wheel. She guided the vehicle to St. Anthony's hospital and parked near the entrance. She was walking down the hall to Robert's room when she heard commotion, voices raised. She recognized one as his, and she picked up her pace. She entered the room in time to find him thoroughly dressing down a young male nurse, who stood over a wheelchair.  
  
"It's my arm I lost, moron! My legs work just fine, and I am not setting foot in that thing!"  
  
"Dr. Romano, I'm sorry, but it's hospital policy. You didn't walk in; I can't let you walk out."  
  
"No, I'm sorry, but unless you plan to bodily lift me into that chair and strap me down, you're SOL."  
  
"Hey, hey, HEY!" Erin hurried over and placed herself between the two bickering men. "Time out"  
  
Both of them began addressing her simultaneously. "Thank God! Would you tell this idiot."  
  
"Miss, could you please explain to."  
  
"QUIET! BOTH OF YOU!" She shouted. She pointed a finger at Robert. "You. Shut up." He scowled at her. She turned her attention to the young man with the wheelchair. "You. What is going on here?"  
  
"As I tried explaining to Dr. Romano, it is hospital policy that anyone who doesn't walk in on their own two feet gets an escort to the door on the day of discharge."  
  
Erin sighed. "Let me guess," she turned back to Robert. "You don't want a ride."  
  
"You're not getting me anywhere near that thing." He shook his head vehemently.  
  
Scratching her head, she decided to try a different approach. "What would you say to a patient if you just re-attached his arm?" She reasoned. "Would you let him walk out?"  
  
Robert's eyes were suddenly filled with a profound humility. "I'd do what I had to, to leave the poor bastard his dignity." Erin reached out and lightly touched the fingertips that emerged from the cast, a sad little smile on her lips. Without looking back at the nurse, she gave a wave of her wrist. "Get it out of here."  
  
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but." the words died in his throat as the young woman leveled her gaze on him, her expression stoic.  
  
"I said, get it out of here."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Feeling quite small, he exited the room quickly, pushing the chair in front of him. Erin leaned over and kissed Robert's now relaxed forehead. "Sorry."  
  
"Then how's about a real kiss?" Her smile widened and she moved her lips to his, happy to oblige. When their mouths parted, she set the duffel bag she'd brought on the bed. "What's in there?" He asked. "Traveling clothes," she pulled out a pair of his personal scrub trousers and a button down shirt. "Remember, we're going for comfort here, not style."  
  
"Anything beats this damn thing." He hastily pulled off the gown he'd been draped in and swung his legs slowly off the edge of the bed. Erin helped him into his pants first, cinching the drawstring waist for him. Then she eased his right arm into the sleeve of his shirt and pulled the back over his left shoulder, making a low sound in her throat. "What?" He asked, mildly alarmed.  
  
"Oh, nothing," she grinned. "It's just that, sometimes, I forget what a nice body you have." She kissed his ear as she finished wrapping the garment around him. Then she retrieved his sneakers. As she knelt to put them on his feet, Robert was overwhelmed, feeling both profoundly grateful and utterly useless. The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he even knew it. "You're going to be a great mom someday."  
  
She smiled up at him as she finished tying the last lace. "You're just saying that to cover for the fact that you're looking down my shirt." She rose in front of him and moved closer, his knees on either side of her body. "Much better," she said, putting her arms around his waist. "How about it? Ready to blow this joint?" She helped him to his feet, collected what little belongings they had in the room, and took his right hand. His stride was slow and careful at first, but as his legs came awake, he wriggled his fingers free from hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead. Erin misinterpreted the gesture, thinking he needed her for balance. She quickly put one arm around his waist and placed the other hand against his chest, alarmed. "No, I'm okay," he reassured her. "Let's get the hell out of here."  
  
They drove back to his house with the top down. In the sunlight, Erin was struck by how pale and gaunt Robert looked. "Hungry?" She asked.  
  
"Starving."  
  
"That's a good sign."  
  
"Know what I could go for?" He grinned. "A big greasy cheeseburger and fries with too much salt."  
  
"Now you're talking."  
  
The sun had already dropped below the horizon by the time Erin eased the Jaguar back into the garage. She helped Robert from the car and led him inside. There was a gunshot rattle of nails on the hardwood floor, and Sophie and Gretel came bolting around the corner. Erin knelt to intercept them before they knocked them both over. "Calm down," she soothed them both as Robert slowly sank to his knees as well. Gretel pushed her dark head against him with a whine, and he embraced her, burying his face in her soft, fragrant fur. Not to be outdone, Sophie pushed her nose under the fingers of his left hand, begging for some attention of her own. Erin was alarmed. "Oh, God, girl, be careful!" She reached for the retriever's collar, but Robert stopped her. "It's okay." Still holding the Bouvier to his chest, he craned his neck towards the Golden, who happily lapped his face with her tongue. "Oh, what do you want?" He cooed.  
  
"Maybe she' hoping you've got more of those hot dogs."  
  
He kept his face guardedly neutral. "What hot dogs?"  
  
"You think I don't see you," Erin chuckled, "but, believe me. I see everything."  
  
"Uh-oh, girls, we're busted," he murmured quietly to the dogs, who growled happily along. Erin helped him back to his feet, and the group made their way into the house. "So what can I do for you?" She asked.  
  
"Where's my briefcase?"  
  
"You want to work?" She wasn't as surprised as she sounded.  
  
"You bet. While the cat's away the lesbian will play."  
  
Erin could not suppress her laughter. "Robert, the ER has been shut down all this time.."  
  
"Uh-huh. And don't kid yourself that Weaver isn't using her time off to do a little posturing for my chief of staff job. Well, she's not going to get it. Not without a fight."  
  
Erin shook her head, bemused. She led him into the study, where he promptly took a seat behind his large mahogany desk. She watched him dive eagerly into the stack of paperwork there and sighed. She left the room, returning a moment later with a handful of pills and a glass of water. "Meds." She lay them on the blotter, then disappeared once more. This time, when she came back, she held a snifter with a small amount of amber liquor swirling in it. "Louis XIII." She smiled at his look of hearty appreciation. "Don't you tell anyone about that."  
  
"You really are a goddess." He grinned up at her.  
  
"Well, looks like you're set for a while. I think I'll go take a dip in the tub." She could see he was already absorbed in a file, so she excused herself quietly and headed upstairs. She filled the tub with steaming hot water and added some oil she'd brought from home. She slipped into liquid bliss up to her ears and closed her eyes, letting everything else melt away. She lingered until the water cooled, then dipped her head under the spigot to rinse her hair. She wrapped herself in a towel and moved into the bedroom, rummaging through one of the drawers she had commandeered. She selected a white silk, button down sleep shirt and slipped her arms inside. Then she returned to the bathroom and retrieved her moisturizer. She rubbed the softly perfumed lotion over her legs, her arms, her throat and face. Then she ran a comb through her hair before rubbing the excess water out with the towel. She was walking back into the bedroom when Robert appeared in the doorway, startling her. "Hey, you. I would have helped you upstairs."  
  
"Turns out I didn't need it." His voice was a bit husky. Erin realized he had shrugged his way out of the shirt he'd been wearing, and her heart began to beat a bit faster. She watched him move into the room, towards the bed. He pulled the coverlet and sheets back. "There is something else you can help me out with, though." He turned to face her, his eyes dark and smoky.  
  
She closed the distance between them slowly, and his arm slipped around her waist. He rubbed the small of her back through the fabric of her shirt. "This new?" She shook her head. "I like it." He nuzzled her cheek with the tip of his nose. "I've missed you," he whispered before claiming her mouth with his own. Erin melted into his embrace as she tasted his tongue against hers, and her body cried out for him. His hand left her back and fumbled at the waist of his pants. She helped him undress without ever breaking the kiss, then steadied him as he sat down on the bed. He leaned against the headboard and she moved the pillows behind his back and neck. Then, ever mindful of his injured arm, she straddled him gently and lowered her body onto his. Her fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, but he shook his head. She nodded slightly, then kissed him once more.  
  
They made love with slow and deliberate care, Erin's hair covering their faces like a damp curtain. Robert groaned once from the pain in his arm, but recovered quickly, burying his face in her neck. Erin stroked her fingers over the ridges and angles of his skull, closing her eyes and relishing the feel of his breath against her skin. "I missed you, too," she murmured softly.  
  
When their quiet passion had reached its climax, she carefully moved her body down his, coming to rest in the crook of his arm. She kissed his chest, and he sighed deeply. "Well, at least that's something I can do one- handed," he joked dryly.  
  
Erin nibbled his flesh playfully. "You won't be one-handed for long," she mused.  
  
Robert nudged her forehead with his chin, pushing her to look up at him. "You really believe that, don't you?" She nodded, her eyes full of innocent certainty. "Don't you?"  
  
He regarded her in quiet contemplation for a moment, then shifted beneath her. "Could you move for just a second?" She obeyed, her brow darkening a little.  
  
With his good arm, Robert fumbled open the drawer of his bedside table and fished something out. As he lay it on the tabletop, Erin's heart stopped. It was a hinged box, shiny black lacquered and stamped with a gold swirl. She looked at Robert her face stunned, blank. "Do you remember what we were supposed to do the night." He trailed off, looking down at his casted arm.  
  
Erin racked her brain, unable to concentrate. "It's okay," he said quietly. "You said you wanted to go to the observatory."  
  
"That's right. It was supposed to be a really clear night, all the stars out."  
  
He nodded. "Well, you thought that was your idea, but it really wasn't. I manipulated you a little." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "So sue me." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "See, I had this whole scene written out in my mind. We'd go, we'd check out the stars, you'd say how beautiful they were, I'd ask you if you wanted me to pluck one down for you, you'd say yes. And then I'd give you this." He gestured to the box. "Open it."  
  
With a trembling hand, Erin obeyed. Her breath caught in her throat. It was brilliant, emerald cut, twice the size she'd ever dared to hope for. "Oh, my God. Robert."  
  
"I know it's really unfair to ask you now, given what's happened."  
  
Her head snapped up, and she cut him off. "Ask me."  
  
He gulped a bit. "Erin, would you marry me?"  
  
Erin pulled into Robert's parking space in the garage. Returning to work after the previous two weeks seemed surreal, but at least, with the chief of staff still on home rehabilitation, she got to park by the elevator. She stepped inside and pushed the button for the ER. As the car began its descent, she checked her watch. 5:47 a.m. She wondered if any of the prisoners of the smallpox war were still around, or if they had made a mad dash for the door as soon as the CDC had cleared them. The doors slid open, and she stepped out into the ER. It was eerily quiet, and she shuddered a little. She made her way towards the lounge, hearing voices echoing through the halls. Carter, mumbling something she couldn't understand, Susan saying something about Barbados, Abby and Kerry, their voices intermixed. Erin slipped into the lounge unnoticed and prepped for the day. Bracing herself (for what, she wasn't certain), she opened the door and walked casually to the admit desk.  
  
"So there's the little teacher's pet,"Carter drawled in a smarmy voice.  
  
Erin pointed at his clothing with her right hand. "Weren't you wearing that the last time I saw you?"  
  
Undaunted, John leaned his elbows on the desk. "Don't even try to get out of this one!" He grinned. "How could you not tell me? I thought we were friends!"  
  
Erin batted her eyes obliviously. "Tell you what?"  
  
"Oh, come on! You know what!" John could see she wasn't going to give up information easily, so he pressed again. "You and Romano!"  
  
"Oh, that?" She pretended to brush it off, but did not notice Susan coming around behind her until she had grabbed her by the wrist.  
  
"Oh, my God!" Susan exclaimed, inspecting the ring on Erin's left hand. "You make me sick!"  
  
"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Carter rounded the desk to get a look for himself. "He asked you to marry him." Erin nodded simply. "And you said yes?" She punched John in the stomach and he doubled over.  
  
"Yes, I said yes." She answered proudly.  
  
Susan hugged her enthusiastically. "That's so great!"  
  
"But it's Romano," John groaned playfully.  
  
"Oh, he's not so bad." Susan began, leading Carter away from the desk. Erin turned to face Kerry, who was smiling, if a little bewildered. "I guess congratulations are in order," she leaned on her cane and offered Erin her hand. Erin took it gratefully. "Thank you Kerry. And thanks for my schedule. I hate to put you on the spot, but..."  
  
"It's all right. He needs you at home as much as possible. I understand that." The two moved to the chart area to await the first patient of the day. "So, have you decided on a date?"  
  
Erin shook her head. "Things have been kind of crazy lately, obviously. It won't be anything big or lavish, I can tell you that. We'll probably just have a small civil ceremony, just us and a witness or two. And then a big party after." She smiled. "You and Sandy will be there, right?"  
  
Kerry seemed flabbergasted that Erin would ask. "I don't know. Robert isn't exactly my biggest fan right now."  
  
"Oh, so what?" Erin tossed lightly. The door swung open and a young man walked in, his hand wrapped in a bloody towel. Erin moved around the counter to assist him. "We'll talk later." She waved a bit to Dr. Weaver, then threw herself into work.  
  
While the day started a bit slow, by eleven o'clock, things were jumping like usual. Erin observed in quiet amusement as news of her impending nuptials spread amongst the staff. She began mentally dividing people into two categories: the "conga rats" were those who expressed their congratulations, real or feigned, and wished her well. Then there were the "call me crazy's", who did just that ("Have you lost your mind?" was the statement that made Jerry her first inductee to that particular group). Finally, three o'clock arrived, and Erin made her way upstairs to the surgical floor. She found Shirley in recovery. "Hey, Shirley."  
  
"Hi, Dr. Windsor. Welcome back."  
  
"Thanks. I'm supposed to pick up a packet of things that Robert asked for?"  
  
"Oh, right. Come with me." The two women walked over to the nurse's station, and Shirley retrieved a stack of folders and forms. "I hear that best wishes are in order."  
  
Erin smiled as she eased the stack into her satchel. "Thank you."  
  
"How is he doing?"  
  
"Same old Robert," Erin grinned. "He's actually doing quite well. You ought to stop by and see him. I'm sure he'd love it." "Yeah," Shirley snorted a little. "Love to start giving me orders to fill in his absence." The two women laughed. "Speaking of which, when can we expect our fearless leader to return to his throne?"  
  
"At the rate he's going I'd give you." Erin contemplated her answer, ".six more weeks of peace and quiet."  
  
"Wow! He must be doing well."  
  
"Either that, or he's raising pig-headed stubbornness to a new level. You'll get to decide for yourself tomorrow."  
  
Shirley looked at her inquisitively. "He's transferring from St. Tony's to our PT department. Eight a.m." She turned to leave, then paused. "You may want to sound the alarm now, though. Give everyone as much prep time as possible." She walked away on the wave of Shirley's laughter, anxious to get home.  
  
When she arrived, she found Robert in the kitchen. He was bent over an eggplant, practicing one-handed sutures with his right hand. "Oh, good, you're home." He handed her a knitting needle and gestured to his left shoulder. She picked up her cue, amused by his brusque tone, and slid the metal rod under his cast. "Little lower. Lower. To the right.perfect!" He sighed in relief as she quieted the itch that had been nagging him for hours. She finished, taking his face in her hands and forcing his head up to face her. "You're welcome," she said dryly, kissing his lips.  
  
"Oh, sorry. Thank you."  
  
She laughed, then physically turned his neck back to its original position. "Did Shirley get everything I asked for?"  
  
"Looks like it."  
  
"So, first day back. How'd it go?" He didn't lift his head, and his voice bore no expression. Yet Erin knew he was envious as hell. She answered him lightly as she moved through the kitchen, trying to give him a little detail without making him any more miserable. She assembled all the necessary ingredients for their dinner, the switched on the tiny television on the counter. He surveyed the food she'd laid out as she scanned the channels. "Mussels marinara?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," she was still focused on finding something to watch.  
  
"Aww, honey, you spoil me." He said in, what he liked to think of as, his best "Ward Cleaver" voice. Still not looking away from the TV, she shot him the finger. Then her face lit up as she settled on a channel and turned up the volume. The most annoying sound Robert had ever heard came from the speakers, and he glanced up, and saw what looked like Swiss cheese in trousers, laughing its head off. "What the hell is that?"  
  
"It's 'Spongebob Squarepants'."  
  
"It's what?"  
  
Erin laughed at the absurdity on his face. "It's 'Spongebob Squarepants'." She repeated.  
  
"'Spongebob Squarepants'?" Seeing him roll the words on his tongue made her laugh even harder. She nodded. "What the hell is a 'Spongebob Squarepants'?"  
  
Now her eyes were beginning to tear. "He is," she pointed to the little yellow character on the screen, then to another. "And he's Patrick Star." The screen changed, filling with an animated crustacean in a suit. "And that's Mr. Krabs."  
  
"Mr. Krabs?!" His expression on that one did her in. She buried her face in her hands, laughing uncontrollably. "You watch this stuff?" She nodded, still laughing. Robert sat, observing her curiously, and his composure only made it more difficult to reign in her hilarity. "You're out there, Windsor."  
  
"I know, I know." 


	10. The Woman Before

Six weeks came and went in the blink of an eye. Kerry was wonderful about keeping Erin's shifts to eight daytime hours as much as possible. Robert's arm went from cast to sling, and he threw himself into physical therapy, vowing to be back in the OR in ninety days. Erin attended his therapy sessions as often as she could, partially to learn the necessary exercises so she could help Robert work at home. But mostly, it was because the PT staff begged her to. They insisted she provided a "calming influence", and that working with him alone was almost unbearable. So, whenever possible, she would leave the ER and head for the fourth floor to observe and assist.  
  
One morning a particularly grueling trauma came in, and Erin got caught up in chest tubes and central lines. When things had finally calmed, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, shit," she muttered, realizing she had missed most of one session. She dashed for the stairs and hurried to the therapy room. She was already speaking when she pushed open the door: "I'm so sorry I'm late, we got slammed." The words died in her throat when she discovered Elizabeth Corday standing between herself and Robert.  
  
"Elizabeth!" She gasped in surprise, hurrying to embrace her friend. "You're back! Are you visiting?" Elizabeth returned the hug warmly. "Nope. I'm afraid I'm here to stay."  
  
"That's so great!" Erin smiled widely. "How's Ella?"  
  
"If you two lovely ladies don't mind," Robert interrupted them, his voice mildly irritated, "I have an occupational therapy session to finish here. So why don't you go do your catching up over a cup of tea or something?"  
  
"Same old Robert," Elizabeth mused. "With or without the arm." She turned back to Erin. "I have to check in with Shirley, but coffee sounds lovely. Do you have the time?"  
  
"I'll make the time," Erin grinned. "It's so good to see you." She watched Dr. Corday exit the room, then crossed over to Robert. "Hey RoboDoc, how's it going?"  
  
"Fine," he answered thinly. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. We had multiple trauma victims come in." Robert cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No sweat. You have a job to do down there. I understand; it's no big deal." Erin's face clouded with concern at his abrupt words. "Are you okay?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah," he insisted. "Arm hurts like a bitch." As if to reassure her, he pulled her into his embrace and covered her mouth with his own. She closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, so she never saw how his remained open, looking past her to the woman leaning over the desk outside. When they parted once more, she stroked her hands up and down his back. "So, we'll work tonight?" He nodded, brushing her cheek with the tip of his nose. "Okay." She kissed him once more. "See you then." She turned and left the room. He watched her approach Elizabeth with her expression of genuine excitement, saw the taller woman put a friendly arm around her shoulders, saw their heads fall back in simultaneous laughter. His brain felt suddenly lost in a fog and he cursed under his breath. Trying to regain some clarity, he slowly clenched his left hand into a fist, gritting his teeth against the pain.  
  
Outside, Elizabeth and Erin were heading for the elevator together. "You look great," Erin smiled. "I can't wait to see Ella. I bet she's gotten so big." She absently lifted her left hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and her diamond caught the light, flashing brilliantly. "Good Lord!" Elizabeth grabbed her hand. "Where did this come from?"  
  
Erin smiled widely. "He didn't tell you?" "Who? Didn't tell me what?" "Robert? He didn't say anything?" "Robert?! Robert Romano?! Gave you that ring?" Erin nodded. "You and Robert.getting married?" She nodded again. "He didn't tell you?" She repeated, trying not to sound like it bothered her. "No!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Of course, to be fair, I'd only been there a moment or two before you arrived." Erin's face cleared. "So, fill me in on all the details," Dr. Corday encouraged.  
  
The two ended up lunching together at Doc Magoo's. Erin explained the timeline of her relationship with Robert, including abbreviated versions of the conversations they'd shared with regard to Elizabeth. They discussed the night of the accident, and Robert's progress since then. Finally Elizabeth described, in very brief detail, the events of her stay in London and the particulars that made her decide to come home. Erin's pager went off suddenly, and she checked the display. "I better get back. Weaver has been great throughout this whole nightmare, and that's no small feat, considering how rude Robert has been. Don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth." She rose from the table, and Elizabeth followed suit.  
  
"Erin, you look very happy." The two friends embraced.  
  
"It's good to have you back." She headed across the street to the ambulance bay, and Dr. Corday watched her go. She was about to leave herself when she caught sight of Romano emerging from the building. He approached Erin, and Elizabeth watched him reach up to tug playfully on her auburn hair. She observed their body language, the air of familiarity that hung between them. Then Robert pulled the young woman into his embrace and kissed her, his arm low around her waist. With amazing focus, she saw Erin's fingers trace the line of his skull, his hairless head, and his angled jaw. Elizabeth felt a twist in her stomach as she realized she and Mark must have looked exactly like the two of them at one point or another. She forced herself to look away as she tasted tears in the back of her throat. Shouldering her bag, she headed for the El platform, being careful not to turn her eyes in the direction of the hospital again.  
  
In the ambulance bay, Erin forced Robert to release her, giggling as she did. "Well, you seem to be feeling better."  
  
"Sensory function should kick in any day, and it's all downhill from there." He insisted, following her into the ER. They made their way to the admit desk, where Jerry, Carter, Abby and Weaver all stood performing various tasks. "Robert, it's good to see you," Kerry smiled professionally. "You're here for therapy?"  
  
"Just for today and tomorrow, and then it's back in the saddle again." Everyone glanced quickly over, and he grinned, relishing the trepidation he saw in their faces. "That's right, boys and girls, it's official. As of Monday, Yours Truly will be back at the helm of this rat-infested, over- taxed, under-funded ship. I am ready, willing, and more than able. And any crew member not up to task better be prepared, because there will be public floggings for those who aren't."  
  
Everyone turned his or her eyes from him to Erin, who shook her head, refusing to look up from the chart she was working on. "Don't even try to put me in the middle," she chided. "You only have to put up with him here; I have to live with him." She glanced up at Robert, pleased to see he took her remark in stride.  
  
Chuney approached the desk from exam four. "Hey, Dr. Windsor, Pablo's here, and he's got a fever. 102.8"  
  
"Saved by the beer," Erin sighed in relief, excusing herself and following the nurse. She opened the door and greeted Pablo with a smile. He was already hooked up to a banana bag, holding tightly to his grungy bag of belongings. "Hey, Pablo, Miss Chuney tells me you have a fever."  
  
"Yeah, Miss Chuney." Her patient muttered. "She stuck that thing in my ear."  
  
"Well, that's how we find out whether your sick or not."  
  
"Haleh takes care of me. I like Haleh."  
  
"I know," Erin commiserated, "but she's not here today."  
  
Yeah, she's mad at me."  
  
"No, she's not mad at you. She's just not here today." She straightened up and began listing her orders for Chuney. "Chest is clear, so it's not respiratory. CBC, lights, tox screen, stick for glucose, and see if you can't find someone to get him cleaned up." She patted the homeless man on the shoulder. "Don't you worry, Pablo. We're going to take good care of you."  
  
She was checking his IV line when Robert entered the room with bravado. "You know, I find it amazing these people can catch a cold, they're so slow on the uptake."  
  
Erin grinned as Pablo shot him a suspicious look. "Pablo, this is Dr. Romano. He's the big boss around here."  
  
"Charmed, I'm sure. Dr. Windsor, if you have a moment." He leaned, somewhat impatiently, against the door.  
  
"Just a second." She hung her stethoscope over her neck. "I think I saw some donuts in the lounge." She smiled at her patient. "You like jelly, right?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, jelly's good."  
  
Erin turned to leave, and jumped as she felt the man's hand slide over her rear end. She looked at him sternly. "I'll give you that one for free."  
  
"Well, I won't!" Robert moved forward, but Erin caught his chest in her hands and pushed him back, out of the room.  
  
"Calm down. He's a frequent flyer, he's drunk, he's harmless."  
  
"He grabbed your ass!"  
  
"Well, if that's the worst thing that happens to me today, I'm ahead of the game." She moved past him, towards the lounge. "So what can I do for you?"  
  
"The finance committee meets today at three. Could you stop by and pick up a copy of the completed agenda? I swear, I'm gone for a while and it seems like we're leaking money from the seams. It looks like the department heads have indulged everything little whim, save stuffing twenty dollar bills down the patient's shorts on their way out the door."  
  
"Well, that's one area where Kerry can be a big help. She's always got her eye on the budget."  
  
"Sure, when it isn't on the backside of some female paramedic."  
  
"ROBERT!" Erin gasped. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I swear, one day she's going to lay you out flat with that crutch, and I hope I'm there to see it."  
  
He grinned lasciviously, stepping closer to her. "Would you nurse me back to health?" She raised her chin in stubborn resistance, and he leaned in to nuzzle her ear. "Hmmm? Would you?"  
  
Erin tried to suppress her grin and failed. She nudged him bodily with her shoulder. "You really enjoy pushing your luck." She kissed him brusquely. "Go home."  
  
Robert eyed the worn leather couch. "You sure? We could always.you know."  
  
Erin bit her full lower lip as he rested his forehead against hers, giggling at his suggestion. "Weaver could come watch. I wouldn't mind." He purred silkily into her neck.  
  
"Get out!" She laughed and pushed him away once more, her face flushed. He shrugged sadly, and made his way out the door in his familiar, cocky stride. Erin shook her head, watching him go. 


	11. Is It Over Yet?

Having Robert back at work seemed to be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Erin was strangely pleased to see his bombastic nature return, to realize his wit had not lost its razor sharpness. On the other hand, it was difficult to watch him pace the corridors like a caged animal, forced to merely observe as others acted. And the fluctuation of ability in his injured arm was a constant frustration. But they seemed to battle through quite well together, and Erin found herself living for the little things: his insistence on driving her to and from work,, the sometimes caustic banter they'd exchange over a patient, the evenings where she would sit behind him on the sofa or in bed, rubbing his shoulders.  
  
But lighter moments were becoming fewer as the focus of his therapy shifted from his arm, which was fine; to his fingers, which were not as dexterous as he hoped, or as he needed them to be if he wanted to operate again. When Abby suggested the staff dress up for Halloween, Erin came up with just the right costume.  
  
Robert was waiting for her in the kitchen when she appeared, dressed in his blue surgical scrubs and surgical coat. She had pinned her hair up beneath one of his brightly colored scrub caps. "You never wear scrubs to work," he commented.  
  
"It's Halloween."  
  
"So you're dressing up like a surgeon. How cute."  
  
"Yep." There was a devilish gleam in her eye. "My favorite surgeon." "  
  
You're supposed to be me? How will anyone be able to tell?"  
  
"Oh, trust me. They'll be able to tell."  
  
He shook his head, picking up his briefcase. "Whatever. We better get going; Marty gets pissy when I'm late."  
  
They arrived at the hospital and parted ways, he for PT, she for the ER. She strode in like she owned the place and chose her first victim. "Carter, what the hell do you think this is, a hospital or a haunted house? Play dress up on your own damn time!" Lily and Malik dissolved into laughter as she placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" John laughed.  
  
"You're too tall to pull it off," Erin grinned, sending the rest of them into another chorus of laughter. She continued to barge through the rest of her shift, pleased that her co-workers were amused rather than perturbed by her abrasive behavior. "Great costume," Susan drawled.  
  
"It's all in the attitude," Malik dropped Erin a wink. "And she's got his down."  
  
"Well, if any of us should be able to do him, it's her. She lives with him"  
  
"You know, I know he can be a real pain, but being a total ass to everyone around you?" Erin grinned. "It's just so liberating."  
  
The friendly conversation was interrupted with news of the impending arrival of several victims caught in an apartment fire. "Uh-oh, crispy critters." Susan and Erin headed for the ambulance bay together. Erin caught the first gurney, assisted by Malik and Chuney. They wheeled the victim inside as the paramedics explained the man's condition. "A couple of leg burns, mostly superficial. Was crushed against a wall in the panic to get out. Possible broken ribs, maybe a fractured clavicle." Erin supervised the patient's transfer to the trauma room and went to work. From the corner of her eye, she could see Elizabeth working on a burn victim of her own with Robert offering assistance in the background. She was prepping for a chest tube when she heard Robert's voice, a curt bark of pain. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look through the window that separated the two rooms. She could see him, doubled over his arm.  
  
"Pulse-ox 62 on one hundred percent," Malik's voice pulled her back to the task at hand. She went to work, stabilizing her patient, trying to stay focused. It took a nearly Herculean effort, but she managed to secure his vitals so he could be transferred to the ICU. Then, snapping off her gloves, she walked out into the hall. She moved through the ER, trying to locate Romano, but was unable to. She headed for the desk. "Frank, have you seen Dr. Romano?"  
  
"Aren't I looking at him?" He teased dryly.  
  
"The bald one," she clarified with a grin.  
  
Frank laughed. "I think he took some guy up to surgery with some leg infection."  
  
"Oh," she brightened a bit at the news. "Thanks, Frank."  
  
A few hours passed. Erin treated a few children with upset stomachs, assisted in monitoring the other burn victims, and sutured up a hand lac. She was preparing the latter's dispo, when Frank held the phone out to her. "It's that nurse from the surgical department."  
  
Erin took the receiver, concerned. "Shirley?"  
  
"Hey, Dr. Windsor, I think you better get up here."  
  
Erin's heart leapt into her throat. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Don't panic. He's just upset. He brought in a nec-fac a little while ago, and they ended up having to take the leg."  
  
"Oh, God," Erin murmured dejectedly. She slid the scrub cap off of her head and unpinned her hair.  
  
"He took it pretty hard. I think he needs someone." Shirley's voice was thick with fatigue.  
  
"I'll be right there." She hung up the phone and scratched her fingers over her scalp. "Frank, I'm going upstairs for a while."  
  
"Everything okay?" Frank asked in his usual gruff manner.  
  
"I'm about to find out."  
  
She moved to the elevator and pressed the button to summon a car. It was a bit of a wait. She was just about to give up and take the stairs when the doors slid open. She stepped inside and saw the light for the surgical floor already illuminated. She leaned heavily against the wall as she waited to arrive. When she emerged, she caught sight of Shirley. She hooked her thumb towards the lounge questioningly. Shirley nodded, indicating Robert was indeed there. Pushing up her sleeves, Erin strode purposefully down the hall. But her gait faltered a little as her focus adjusted on the window of the surgeon's lounge.  
  
The blinds were open. Robert was sitting defeated in his chair, Elizabeth standing over him. Trying to brush away her uncertainty, Erin moved to open the door. But her hand froze on the knob as she watched Dr. Corday drop to her knees and lay a hand on Robert's knee. Calm down, she told herself. They're friends. It's just a friend comforting a friend.  
  
And then Robert took Elizabeth's face in his hand. Erin felt the air sucked out of her lungs as she watched. The chemistry between the two surgeons was obvious, and it hit her like a knife. They held their posture only for a second or two, but to Erin it felt like an eternity. And then Elizabeth was turning her attention to her pager. The look on Robert's face as she moved to leave was unbearable. Erin forced her fingers to release the doorknob, and she stumbled around the corner, not wanting to be seen. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Her mind reeled, and she tried to convince herself what she'd seen was no big deal.  
  
Then why does it feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest?  
  
She somehow managed to compose herself, and she made her way to the stairwell. She stumbled back down to the ER, and made her way unnoticed to the lounge. Carter was there, fixing himself a cup of coffee. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, concerned.  
  
"Yeah," she nodded weakly. Then she shook her head. "Actually, no. I'm not feeling so good. Think you could cover my last two hours?"  
  
"Sure," he crossed the room and lay his hand on her forehead. "No fever."  
  
"Probably just too much Halloween candy," she offered weakly.  
  
"You didn't eat any Halloween candy."  
  
Her eyes pleaded with him to leave well enough alone. "Maybe you're just overtired," he offered. A wordless exchanged passed between them. He knew full well that it was something else; she knew he wouldn't pry. "Can Romano get away to drive you home?"  
  
Erin kept her face neutral, shaking her head. "I'll just take the El." She fetched her purse and left the room before he had a chance to say anything else.  
  
Robert sat behind his desk in his office mulling over paperwork, not really paying close attention to anything. He looked down at his arm, wrapped in its casing of plastic and metal. Marty's words from earlier still rang in his ears. Twenty percent chance of meaningful digit function.not sure you'll ever be able to operate again. you can still be chief of staff. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Now Elizabeth's voice. A period of adjustment.you get over it.you'll work through it. His hand on her cheek, his need to apologize, his want to set the past aside and start over. But she still regarded him as a predator - the anxiety in her eyes when he touched her, her excuse about a bogus page, her hasty exit. They were all testimony to that. Give it time, he told himself. She'll come around. She'll stop being so nervous, especially when she sees how good things are with Erin.  
  
Erin. Just the sound of her name brought a smile to his lips. He glanced at his watch. Her shift had ended an hour ago. She usually made her way up to him when she was finished, knowing it was best to escape the ER vortex, rather than risk being sucked back in by milling about the halls. He threw the files he'd been shifting about into his valise and rose to put on his coat. He made his way down to the ER and began looking for her. She was nowhere to be found. He saw John Carter at the admit desk. "Hey, Carter," he called out. "Where's Mini-Me?"  
  
John's brow knitted together. "She left over three hours ago. Said she wasn't feeling well."  
  
Impossible, he said to himself. Aloud: "How could she leave if she didn't take my car?"  
  
"She said something about taking the El."  
  
Robert turned brusquely on his heel and stalked towards the exit.  
  
"You didn't know she was leaving?" Carter called after him.  
  
Robert ignored him. Mind your own business, you nosy little prick, he thought to himself.  
  
He drove home with a mild sense of alarm in his stomach. Something had to be wrong. Erin wouldn't just take off without a word, especially if she were feeling ill. He pulled into the driveway and hurried into the house. He wasn't even sure at first whether she was there or not. No lights were on; he could not hear the television or the stereo. He went upstairs to see if she had gone to lie down, but the bed was empty. He felt the first gnawing of panic when he walked into the living room.  
  
She was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up under her chin, still dressed in his scrubs. She had lit the fireplace and was staring into the dancing flames, which provided the room its only illumination. Robert started to breathe a sigh of relief, preparing some bluster about her disappearing act, then noticed her expression. One of utter sadness. "Hey, gorgeous," he said softly. She didn't look up. He crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of her. "Erin?" She still didn't move; she was barely breathing. He reached up to touch her face, much in the way he had reached for Elizabeth. She started violently, and his stomach twisted. "Erin, what the hell is the matter?"  
  
Her green eyes finally met his. "I saw something today."  
  
"Something at work?" She nodded, and he wracked his brain, listing as much of the trauma that had come in as he could, trying to guess what it may have been. Burn victims, crush injuries - nothing she hadn't dealt with a hundred times before. "What?"  
  
"You. And Elizabeth."  
  
Again, his mind raced to catalog the times he'd shared space with Corday. The trauma room, the OR. "The lounge," he said out loud. Something flickered in her eyes. "Erin, let me explain."  
  
"I don't want you to explain." Her voice, quiet, cutting the air like a razor. She shook her head sadly. "I just want you to listen. I've been sitting here for hours, trying to figure out why I'm so upset. Trying to figure out what bothers me so much. And I think I finally did." She leveled him with her gaze. "I cannot stand the fact that you can look at another woman like that. I'm jealous, pure and simple. I wish I could be a bigger person, that I could rise above it, but I can't. "  
  
"You don't have anything to be jealous about," he insisted.  
  
"You say that now, but what about tomorrow? What about the day after that?" She hugged her arms over her chest. "Robert, I have to have something in my life that isn't a struggle. I deserve to have one thing that I can be sure of. And the only thing that I know for sure right now is that I cannot handle walking around another corner and coming face to face with what I saw today. Can I be sure that it won't ever happen again? I don't know. And frankly, I don't think you know either."  
  
"Would you please just let me explain what you saw? You think you know what was going on, some stolen moment, some secret exchange, but it wasn't like that at all. We had a case go bad today."  
  
"I know all about the nec-fac, Robert. I know he lost his leg. And I know that hits home for you. I also know that I was a phone call and an elevator ride away. You know, I think that's what hurt most. I was there on that roof, in the OR waiting area, in your hospital room. I am there for your therapy, I'm there for your struggle to keep your job, and I'm there to hold you and make love to you when you're discouraged. Yet tonight, when you really needed someone, it wasn't me you reached for. I hate it! I know I shouldn't, I know you deserve all the support you can get. But I just.I hate that you could be that way with somebody else. It's selfish, and greedy, and jealous, and it's how I feel." Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, and she rose to her feet. Robert groped for her desperately, but she stepped beyond his reach.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I have to get out of here." She moved towards the door, but he cut her off, restraining her body with all his strength.  
  
"No. You can't leave. Stay. Stay and talk to me."  
  
She shook her head. "Not now." She tried to move past him, but he caught her neck with his arm and crushed his mouth down on hers. She resisted at first, but he refused to let go. After a moment, she melted against him, moving her lips against his as if trying to release all the pent up frustration she felt. Robert felt a surge of hope in his chest as her arms encircled him. They stood locked in each other's embrace, kissing passionately for what seemed a small eternity. But when their bruised lips finally parted, Erin still wriggled out of his grasp.  
  
He let her go with a choked sob, realizing she'd been kissing him goodbye.  
  
He stood immobile for a moment after the door clicked shut behind her. There was a crystal vase on the table near his hand. He grabbed it and flung it at the wall with a primal roar. It smashed into smithereens.  
  
Goddamn you, Lizzie, he thought to himself. Why couldn't you just stay away? 


	12. Pride

Outside, Erin leaned against her car, trying desperately to calm her raging mind. At her side, Sophie whined questioningly. Erin yanked the vehicle door open and the dog scrambled inside. Climbing behind the wheel and gunning the engine, Erin pulled out of the driveway. She somehow managed to drive back to her house, despite the flood of tears that overwhelmed her. She stumbled through the front door and made her way to her bedroom. Having spent so many nights at Robert's home during his recovery, the space felt foreign, uncomfortable. She sank down on to the bed and surrendered to the sobs that tore at her chest, unable to believe how many storms were raging inside her.  
  
She was still so hurt, so dejected that her absence during Robert's moment of misery was so easily filled.  
  
She was angry that he still had not found a way to rise above his ego and reach for her when he really needed her.  
  
But, most of all, she was angry with herself. She looked at the ring on her finger. It should have been enough to salve her wounded pride and quiet her jealousy. But it wasn't. And she couldn't understand why.  
  
She curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. Suddenly, the telephone rang. She reached for it reflexively, then stopped. In the kitchen, the answering machine clicked on, and she heard the empty air of an open line. She had just begun to think that, whoever it was, they had hung up.  
  
Robert's voice, full of gravel. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to me. But I'm hoping you're there, and that you're safe. I promise, I won't push, I won't say a word. Just pick up the phone. Let me know your okay. I could go nuts here, thinking about you, dead in a ditch or wrapped around a telephone pole. Maybe I deserve that."  
  
She picked up her extension. "I'm here."  
  
He kept his word. Silence.  
  
"I just - I need time."  
  
Nothing. She couldn't even hear him breathing.  
  
"Robert, I do love you."  
  
A heavy sigh, a click, and the dial tone. Fresh tears, and her grief swallowed her.  
  
She called in sick for her Friday shift. The thought of facing him was too devastating. Speaking to Kerry, she apologized.  
  
"Well, Carter said you weren't doing to well last night." Paperwork shuffling. "Listen I know you were scheduled to have the weekend off, and I can let you keep tomorrow. But if I have to pull someone in today - "  
  
"It's okay, Kerry. I can come in on Sunday." Robert would not be there.  
  
"Great. Eight to eight?"  
  
"Eight to ten, if you need me."  
  
"Well, I don't know that that is absolutely necessary; I know you've got a lot going on."  
  
Courtesy to an employee, or sucking up to the boss' girlfriend, Erin wondered before cutting her off. "It's fine, Dr. Weaver. I can pull a full twelve."  
  
"Well, great. If it's slow, we'll just get you out early."  
  
QUIT BEING SO NICE, Erin's mind screamed. "Thanks, Kerry. And again, I'm sorry."  
  
"Just feel better."  
  
Erin hung up the phone and sank back down into her pillow. She pulled the blankets up over her head and tried, for what seemed like the hundredth time, to fall asleep. Two hours later, she gave up. Rising heavily from the bed, she slowly removed Robert's scrubs and dressed in loose sweats and a T- shirt. She stepped into the bright sunlight spilling into the living room and winced.  
  
Coffee? No. Breakfast? The thought of food turned her stomach.  
  
She made her way to the stereo and switched it on. Yoga.  
  
She pushed the coffee table aside and began the familiar routine of bending and stretching. She was hoping meditation might give her a sense of calm, but the only images that kept rising in her brain were those of Robert's face.  
  
The cocky smile when they were photographed for the journal that published their study.  
  
The intense brown of his eyes when they danced at the Greene wedding.  
  
The relaxed curve of his jaw as he hovered above her after their lovemaking.  
  
The anguish when she had pulled away from him the previous night.  
  
For the first time, Erin abandoned her routine without finishing. She pulled her legs underneath her and hugged her arms over her chest, rocking gently on the floor in time to the music.  
  
Back at County General, Robert wasn't doing well, either. He had blustered into the day, full of controlled rage and cool focus. But the tedious atmosphere of the Residency Review Committee and his view of Dale Edson counseling the nec-fac patient in wake of losing his leg sapped most of his energy. He made his way to his office and collapsed into his chair. Ripping off his arm brace, he began moving his wrist and fingers through their therapy regimen, jaw set, teeth clenched. His brow was dotted with perspiration and his lips were rubbed raw from being pressed together when Elizabeth swung his office door open and stepped inside.  
  
"Robert, I need your signature - good God, what are you dong?!" He ignored her, and she rushed to the desk, pushing the door closed behind her. "Robert, stop it! You're going to do yourself damage!"  
  
"And that's your exclusive territory. Isn't it Elizabeth?" His hiss cut the air like a knife. Dr. Corday reached to physically restrain him, and he jerked away.  
  
"Robert, what the bloody hell has gotten into you?"  
  
"Women, goddamned women," he snarled, rising from his desk and stalking to the window. Elizabeth calmed a bit, now that he let his injured arm alone. She picked his cuff up from the desk and carried it to him. When he made no move to take it, she gently began putting it into place. "Robert, if you're feeling frustrated, why don't you go downstairs and pay your fiancée a visit?"  
  
"She's not there," he snapped.  
  
"Are you sure? The schedule - "  
  
"Jesus, Elizabeth, would you just shut up? I think I would know the work schedule of my own girlfriend, especially when she works in a department of my hospital. Trust me, she's not there."  
  
Elizabeth had been on the receiving end of Romano's tirades many times before, but somehow, this felt different. Before, she had always felt an undercurrent of security. Now, there was only ice in his voice. "Robert, has something happened between you and Erin?"  
  
"Well, give the lady a gold star, folks! Congratulations and thanks for playing, 'Can You Please State the Obvious'!"  
  
"Oh, dear," Elizabeth raised one hand to her brow. "What have you done?"  
  
"Me? ME?!" Romano's face was nearly apoplectic. "I didn't do a damn thing! You know, you estrogen factories, you think you're so clever! You set up these dumbass games that you insist we play rather than just cutting to the chase and saying, 'Oh, hi there, I'm CRAZY!', and then you get all pissed off and shove us out the door because we can't keep the rules straight! And in the end, all you ever have is two people, alone and miserable, trying to figure out how to completely re-wire their lives so that they never have to cross paths again. All this, for just a little sexual gratification from time to time? No wonder we haven't been able to wipe prostitution off the map - it's cheaper." He flopped down on the couch, securing the last few straps on his arm brace.  
  
Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to absorb his rampage. She sank down on the sofa next to him. "Robert? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Well, let me make it very clear for you, Dr. Corday," he turned to her his face full of ire. But when his eyes met hers, he deflated. "I fucked up. I failed her, and God knows if she'll ever be able to forgive me." Elizabeth's face was still blank. "She saw us, Elizabeth. In the lounge, last night." Understanding dawned in her eyes for a moment, then confusion.  
  
"Just what exactly does she think she saw?"  
  
Robert's features hardened. "The same thing you thought you saw." She feigned ignorance, and he felt like exploding. "Oh, come on Elizabeth! Don't screw with me." He rose to his feet, irate. "It's the running joke around here isn't it? How Good Ol' Lizzie's got me wrapped around her little finger, how I'm your little puppy dog, how I would give my arm, no pun intended, to be with you?" His expression was stony. "Well, maybe once. But not anymore. It took seeing you again to make me realize it, but not anymore." His eyes suddenly shone with unshed tears. "And that's what's wrong."  
  
Elizabeth felt her heart in her throat as well. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I should have known it the very first time I danced with her. The first time I kissed her. Hell, I at least should have known it by the first time I took her to bed. But I didn't." He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "And she hates me for it."  
  
"Oh, Robert," Elizabeth stood quickly and embraced him, feeling for the first time like his true friend. "She doesn't hate you. She's hurt and she's confused. But that's because she loves you." She held him, offering release, but he refused to take it. He pulled away, gently though.  
  
"Please go now, Elizabeth."  
  
"Why don't you just call her?"  
  
"She refused to come to work so she wouldn't have to look at me. How hard do you think it'd be for her to ignore the phone."  
  
"Then go see her."  
  
"She'd never let me get my foot in the door." Elizabeth was suddenly angry. "Goddamnit, Robert, quit making excuses! You've got something really wonderful here! Are you really going to sit on your hands and blow it all, just so you can save your precious pride?"  
  
Naked pain in his eyes. "Is that really what you think?"  
  
"If you don't do something, I guarantee you it's what Erin will think." 


	13. A Friend In Need, and a Friend Indeed

Saturday and Sunday trudged along at a weary pace. The discord in Erin's heart was only made worse by the silence from Robert. He didn't call, didn't page, didn't bluster into the hospital when she returned to work. Word must have spread about their falling out though; everyone seemed to give her an extra-wide berth as she moved through her shift. No words, just sympathetic eyes, piteous smiles, and gentle, thoughtful pats on the back. She was reminded of the days after her parents' funeral, when everyone treated her as if the wrong word or inflection would send her jumping out the nearest window. It made her nauseous, but she was not sure if there was anything to be done about it.  
  
She was looking for Verced in the drug lock up when, by chance, Pratt's voice drifted around the corner and found her ears.  
  
".I'll tell you what happened - the Big Giant Head lost the taste for her particular flavor. Either that, or she quit putting it out there the way he wanted it."  
  
"Pratt, you're disgusting." Abby, sounding perturbed.  
  
"I'm serious! Guys like Romano, they're only geared to appreciate one thing in a woman. Either Windsor couldn't keep up the pace, or she started insisting that he look at her as an equal. And that just ain't in his nature."  
  
"Well, I thought they looked pretty happy together." Chen, shuffling paperwork. "I hope they work it out - I hate to see Erin looking so down."  
  
Erin came out of the locker and rounded the corner, just in time to come up on Pratt as he preened and strutted in front of the two women. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, if that sweet little thing needs a pick-me- up, she can find it right here." Chen and Abby paled as they caught sight of her, and Pratt whirled around. "Oh, man."  
  
"So," Erin crossed her arms over her chest. "You think I need a pick- me-up? You think you're the one to give it?"  
  
"Dr. Windsor, I'm so sorry. I.I didn't."  
  
"Didn't know I was standing right here," she nodded brusquely. "Obviously." She withered him with her gaze a moment longer before speaking again. "You know what's funny, Pratt, is that you're right. I do need a pick-me-up. And you're just the one I'd like to get it from." He paled, not knowing what to expect. "Sign out your patients and get the hell out of here. You're suspended until further notice."  
  
"What?! You can't do that."  
  
"Oh, can't I?" He voice was silky. "You're a resident. I'm an attending. That gives me almost as much authority over you as Weaver and, oh, what's his name." She snapped her fingers a couple of times before feigning remembrance. ".Oh, yes. The Big Giant Head."  
  
"Would they say the same thing if I called you out in front of them?" Pratt spoke out of pride and anger, and immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
Erin took a small step closer to him. "Do it," her voice dripped venom. "I'm begging you. Nothing would please me more than to make your little dissertation on Romano public. Especially in front of Romano." She stared at him, unflinching. He yanked his lab coat off and stormed down the hall. Erin's satisfaction at seeing him go was short-lived; she was weary once again before even turning back to Jing-Mei and Abby. "Problem?" She asked. Neither woman said anything. Wordlessly, Erin turned and stalked down the hall.  
  
She was doing chart review in the suture room when the door swung quietly open. Carter walked in slowly. Erin didn't bother to look up. "Want some coffee?" John asked.  
  
No response.  
  
"You hungry? I could run over to Doc's?" He offered lightly.  
  
She flipped to the next folder without missing a beat.  
  
"Want to talk?" He pressed again.  
  
"What is it, Carter? Abby run and tattle on me?"  
  
John pulled a rolling chair over to the gurney where her paperwork was spread. "It was a little harsh, don't you think?"  
  
"It was textbook sexual harassment," she chirped. "I was well within my rights, and the parameters of my job."  
  
"Technically true," John nodded a little. "But."  
  
Erin dropped her pen impatiently. "But what? " "I'm just left to wonder."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Wonder what?" Her voice dripped sarcasm  
  
"If you would have been so harsh if it wasn't for the problems with. you know."  
  
"Mute point, John," she snapped. "The entire incident wouldn't have occurred at all if it wasn't for the problems with.you know." She mimicked him perfectly.  
  
"Aha! So you admit there are problems!"  
  
"Don't push it, Carter."  
  
"Why you were wasting your time with that guy was always just a little bit beyond me."  
  
"And that's not the only thing." Erin began angrily slamming folders shut, stacking them with a fury that made the gurney shake.  
  
"I mean, come on! He's arrogant, he's pushy, he's rude, he's short."  
  
"Shut up, John!" She rose from her seat and turned her back on him, crossing the room.  
  
Carter pressed forward relentlessly, closing the distance between them. "He's crass, he's prejudicial, he's not even that good-looking."  
  
"I mean it, Carter!"  
  
"And now that he's only got one good arm, he's not even any good for the one thing he had going for him."  
  
WHACK!  
  
John's head rocked back from the force of her blow, an angry red patch flaming on his cheek. Erin clutched her hand to her mouth, unable to believe what she had just done. Amazingly, John's expression was gently understanding. She dissolved into tears, and he took her in his arms. "Oh, God, John, I'm so sorry.I don't know where that came from."  
  
"I do," he murmured softly, stroking her hair. He rocked her gently to and fro as she sobbed against his chest. He listened as the entire story spilled out between her gasps for air, rubbing her back and soothing her tenderly. When she was finished, he still held her against his chest. "Well, I can certainly understand why you're upset," he tilted her face up to his. "But it seems to me like you're ready to forgive the guy." He gestured to his still crimson cheek, and she rubbed it gently.  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it." He clenched his jaw. "Face of steel." She laughed a little and he wiped the tears from her face. He cocked his head towards the phone. "Why don't you go give him a call?" Erin appeared to ponder his words sadly, then finally shook her head.  
  
" I wouldn't know where to start."  
  
"You could start by telling him you love him."  
  
Erin hesitated, then shook her head again. "What if he decides that, without a little bit of trust, that's just not enough?"  
  
"What if he does?" John probed gently.  
  
"I don't think I could handle that right now."  
  
"Okay. So here's what you do." John led her out of the room and down the hall. "You go home, since your shift ended half an hour ago, and you get some sleep. Then you wake up tomorrow, come in here bright eyed and bushy tailed, and you call Brenda and tell her you and Romano need to 'take a meeting'." As he spoke, he helped her out of her labcoat and into her locker. "With any luck, you'll be," he cleared his throat suggestively, "'adjourning' on that big leather couch in his office."  
  
Erin grinned wearily. "What about Pratt?"  
  
John winked. "We'll let him twist for a day before calling him back. And then we'll make him an offer her can't refuse: he doesn't gripe about his suspension, we don't turn the content of his comments over to Romano."  
  
"A nice, even blackmail?" Erin shrugged. "I like it."  
  
  
  
Monday dawned, a crisp autumn day in Chicago. Erin rose early, unsure whether she was prepping for her 9-7 shift or her intended encounter with Robert. She arrived at the hospital ahead of schedule, only to find out he was at a meeting in the Dean's office, and not expected back until after noon. A whole heaping of courage wasted, she thought to herself as she headed down to the ER. A bustle of activity swirled around her as she stepped off the elevator. It seemed like everyone was watching her from the corner of their eye. Probably wondering whom I plan to suspend next. The thought made her snicker a little as she moved to inspect the board.  
  
She spent most of the morning examining people who suffered from the flu, and explaining to them that prescribing antibiotics wouldn't help a virus. At ten o'clock she treated a young woman who had singed her hair and face while getting ready for work near a scented candle ("It's never a good idea to use hairspray around an open flame."). At twelve-thirty, young man brought his father in, complaining of abdominal pain. Erin quickly diagnosed appendicitis, and waited anxiously to see if Robert would escort the transport team. No sign of him. She assisted Carter on an LP and a tracheotomy; that killed about an hour. Finally, at two o'clock, she picked up the phone and dialed Robert's extension.  
  
"Chief of Staff's office. This is Brenda."  
  
"Hey, Brenda, it's Erin. Is he in?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Windsor, you just missed him."  
  
Erin's heart sank. "Any idea when he'll be back?"  
  
"I'm not sure. He left to run some errands, but he didn't say what."  
  
"Could you do me a favor? Would you pencil me in at his next available time?"  
  
Awkward silence. "Brenda?"  
  
"I.I'm sorry, Dr. Windsor. He specifically asked me not to put you into his schedule."  
  
"He what?"  
  
"He said if you called and tried to get in to see him, I was to tell you no."  
  
Erin fell silent, stunned. Her lack of response unnerved the young woman on the other end of the phone. "He said if he found out I worked you in anywhere, he'd fire me. I'm so, so sorry."  
  
"No, it's not your fault." Erin said numbly.  
  
She dropped the phone back into the cradle without another word. She stalked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She stared at her reflection, willing herself not to break down. She leaned against the sink, clutching the porcelain, knuckles white, tendons in her wrists taut as wire. Suddenly Lily burst through the door. "Dr. Windsor, multiple trauma pulling in. Dr. Kovac needs you."  
  
"Coming." Erin washed her hands and headed out the door, grateful for some purpose.  
  
She moved through the multiple GSW's like an automaton, barely registering any real feeling or emotion. She barely registered when it was all over; all she knew was that she was suddenly alone in the trauma room. She was about to begin tidying up when she caught sight of Elizabeth and Susan Lewis, huddled together across the corridor. A flash of annoyance broke through the fog in her head, and she headed for the ambulance bay, in need of some fresh air. She was just settling onto the bench when she heard Elizabeth calling her name. She pretended not to hear, but the woman moved across the area and sat down next to her.  
  
"That was a nice save," Dr. Corday remarked, referring to the gunshot victim Erin had just sent upstairs.  
  
Erin nodded. "Thanks."  
  
Elizabeth was uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave. "Look, Erin, I know you and Robert are having a bit of a disagreement."  
  
"Elizabeth," Erin turned her head sharply. "I don't want to talk about this."  
  
"I'm sure it's not the most pleasant conversation, but I think."  
  
"Elizabeth!" Erin's voice trebled. She held up her hand like a physical barrier. "I'm the first person to admit that I'm not really rational right now. If I get into this with you, I am going to end up saying something I will regret. I am asking you, as a friend, please don't put me in that position."  
  
Dr. Corday's face was lit with surprise. "Erin, surely you know I would never try to insinuate myself between you and Robert."  
  
Erin's face darkened. "Do I know that, Elizabeth?"  
  
"You must! I'm not the least bit attracted to him as anything more than a friend or colleague! I've no interest in him whatsoever."  
  
"Now, that's not exactly true, is it?" Erin sniffed.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Tell me you don't secretly love it, Elizabeth. Tell me you don't get just the tiniest ounce of satisfaction from knowing that, when push comes to shove, all you really have to do it bat your eyes and the great Rocket Romano is putty in your palm." A flash of guilt crossed Elizabeth's face. "That's what I thought," Erin chided. "Maybe I'm not the only one with jealousy issues."  
  
"How dare you speak to me like that?" Elizabeth gasped. "I've never done anything for you to behave this way towards me! I thought we were friends."  
  
Erin saw the honest misery in Elizabeth's eyes, and her shoulder slumped. "Goddamnit, Elizabeth, I'm sorry. I told you I didn't want to talk about this." The two women leaned against each other and Erin pressed her fingers to her temples. "Look, I don't know how to handle feeling jealous about him. And I don't know how to handle feeling jealous towards you. And none of it matters anyway."  
  
"How can you say that? You're still wearing his ring."  
  
"A technicality." Erin mused sadly.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Yes, really. Even his secretary is giving me the cold shoulder. I couldn't get him to fire me face to face right now."  
  
"Well, that should tell you something." Erin looked at her curiously. "Have you ever met anyone as gleefully malicious as Robert Romano?" Elizabeth asked. Erin shook her head. "Then tell me this," Lizzie continued, "why hasn't he taken the opportunity to dress you down, either in public or in private?" Erin shrugged, contemplating her words. "His pride is smarting," Elizabeth explained. "Give it time." She put her arm around Erin's shoulder, and the two sat in the cooling afternoon air, waiting to see where the rest of the day would take them. 


	14. I Thought it Only Happened in the Movies

Short, way too sweet, and totally to the point, this one is for my dear friend Karen, who just can't get enough of the sappy, romantic stuff. Lactose intolerants - be warned: the following contains enough cheese to feed the entire state of Wisconsin for a month (there's a shout-out to my good buddy and fellow PMC worshipper Meg).  
  
  
  
Seven o'clock came, and Erin greeted it with a groan. She trudged down the corridor to the lounge. "I have never been so ready to get out of here." Susan Lewis was standing in the triage area reviewing a chart, and she jumped suddenly. "Erin! Hey Erin, wait!" She gestured for Abby to take over as she excused herself from the patient. She followed Erin into the lounge. "Have you got a few minutes? I wanted to talk to you about something."  
  
"Susan," Erin groaned. "It's been a really shitty day, and I want to go home. I don't want to run the risk of getting sucked back in here, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Hey, that's no problem. I could use a break." She waited until Erin had locked her labcoat in her locker and was dressed in just her sweater and skirt. "There. Now you look like a civilian. Let's go up to the roof."  
  
"Fine," Erin relented, following Susan to the elevators.  
  
"So I was out with Chen and Chuney the other night - " Susan began as the elevator doors closed. Erin tried to focus on what her friend was saying, but without much success. It seemed that she was just rambling on and on, with no real point to make. Erin chided herself for being unfair, and tried to clear her head. Finally, they reached the top floor. Erin stepped off the car, and Susan moved to follow her, then smacked her forehead. "Oh, dammit! I forgot my pager. I'll be right back."  
  
Erin tried to re-enter the car. "I'll come with you."  
  
"No, no, no, I would hate for you to get snagged. I'll just get it and meet you out there in a few minutes. Go on, save us a spot," Susan urged.  
  
"'Save us a spot'? It's a roof, Susan, not a movie theater. We're probably going to be the only two people out there!" Erin was exasperated.  
  
"Just go wait on the roof!" Susan called as the elevator doors closed.  
  
Erin turned on her heel, annoyed. "Just go wait on the roof," she repeated aloud as she stalked towards the exit. "Fine, I'll just go wait on the roof." She pushed the door open in frustration.  
  
The first thing that struck her was the scent; a heady mixture of jasmine, lily, rose, and smoky air. She realized that the entire roof was covered with glowing white hurricane lanterns, their flames dancing in the evening breeze. The flora that perfumed the air was also scattered across the gravelly surface.  
  
And, a few feet away, standing next to a portable stereo system, was Robert.  
  
He was dressed in the same russet colored suit she'd seen him in a dozen times before, complete with the horizontal-striped silk tie she had once mentioned was her favorite. His right hand was stuffed deep into his pocket. His left, free of the brace, held a single, perfect red rose. He was looking out over the city, but when she voiced his name in a whisper, he turned to face her. His eyes were dark and smoky, and his jaw was set in determination.  
  
"Robert? What-"  
  
He lifted a finger to his lips to shush her, then pressed the power button on the CD player. He moved slowly towards her as the music* began.  
  
"Would you dance - if I asked you to dance - " He offered her the rose.  
  
"Would you run - and never look back - " She accepted it with trembling fingers.  
  
"Would you cry - if you saw me crying - " His eyes burned into hers as he slipped an arm around her waist.  
  
And would you save my soul tonight?" He mouthed the words in perfect time with the music.  
  
Erin slid her arms into place as he began to move her body slowly, a single tear streaking her cheek. She returned his gaze with the same intensity as the chorus filled the air. "I can be your hero, baby. I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away." As the second verse began, she drew his head down to hers and kissed him warmly.  
  
The lyrics just kept ringing in her head: "Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind? I don't care - you're here tonight." The passion of their kiss increased, and by the time the song had ended, they were both a bit out of breath. She stroked his face lovingly as he wiped the tears from hers.  
  
"Did I lose you?" He asked hoarsely.  
  
Erin shook her head. "I'm so sorry - " She began, but he covered her lips with his once more.  
  
"I love you," Robert said strongly. "You and only you."  
  
"I know," she reassured him. She lifted the rose he had given her and inhaled its fragrance. "How did you do all this?"  
  
"I have my methods," he grinned. "No one has mastered the Grand Sweeping Gesture like me, gorgeous."  
  
"Really?" She grinned herself. She looked around once more. "Please tell me we don't have to clean this up."  
  
"Why? Somewhere you need to be?"  
  
Erin nodded, her eyes full of desire. Robert caught her meaning. "Let's go home."  
  
"Huh-uh." She demurred. "I can't wait that long." Besides, she thought to herself, I'd hate to disappoint John after smacking him like that. "Come with me."  
  
  
  
Minutes later, they were alone in his office behind a locked door, feverishly pulling at each other's clothing. They collapsed onto the couch together, ever mindful of Robert's injured arm. Erin gasped against his neck as his hand sought purchase beneath her blouse. She tried to assist him with the buttons, but anticipation overtook him. The sound of tearing fabric resonated through her body, and she arched up for his touch. She could feel her skirt riding higher and higher, and then he was there, inside her, crushing her with his weight. He was bruising her lips with the force of his kiss, and then she tasted his tongue against hers. She wrapped herself around him, welcoming him, repeating his name over and over. He rose up slightly to look down on her, and she shivered under the weight of his gaze. "I love you," he spoke slowly and deliberately, and she lifted her body to meet his. Their passion quickly crested, and they melted into each other, bodies glistening with perspiration, air tearing in and out of their lungs.  
  
  
  
A short time later they rose from the couch to begin dressing. Erin surveyed her sweater piteously. "Toast," she mumbled.  
  
"Oh, sorry about that." The old Rocket had returned, nonchalant and self- satisfied.  
  
"You are not." Erin laughed and threw the shredded fabric at him. "How am I supposed to get out of here, smart guy?"  
  
Robert crossed the room to the coat rack and held his trenchcoat open for her to slip her arms inside. She smoothed it down over her camisole and skirt as he surveyed her thoughtfully. "You know, you could just take the rest of that stuff off, and we could have some fun when we get home."  
  
Erin tied the sash about her waist and crossed the room. She came up behind him and slid her hands up over his back. She hugged his neck as he secured his left hand back into the brace, wincing slightly as he did. "You all right?" She asked catching his earlobe between her lips.  
  
"As rain. Come on." He slipped his arm around her waist, and she kissed his cheek as they walked out the door  
  
*"Hero" as performed by Enrique Iglesias 


	15. Meaningful Recovery

Erin stepped out onto the front porch to fetch the paper and gasped as the cold air hit her face and hands. She surveyed the crisp white of the new- fallen snow that had begun the night before and risen up above the tires of the cars. The air was still and silent and she smiled to herself as she hurried back into the house. She headed upstairs, dropped the paper on the bed, and snapped on the TV. She found the local news, announcing the fact that the city was virtually shut down because of the weather. Grinning, she moved into the bathroom. The glass shower walls were veiled in steam, and Erin dropped her robe. She opened the door and wrapped her arms around Robert, who jumped. "Jesus, you're freezing."  
  
"I know. Warm me up," she cooed. He pulled her under the stream of steaming water and covered her waiting mouth with his. When their lips separated, he rubbed a clear spot on the glass, squinting to try and see the clock above the sink. "What time is it?"  
  
"Don't worry about it," Erin smirked, squeezing some soap from the bottle onto her hands and rubbing them over his chest. "We aren't going anywhere. The city of Chicago is officially snowed in."  
  
"Mmm," he breathed appreciatively. "In that case, I have a few other areas that could use a good scrubbing." Erin giggled as he guided her hands over his body.  
  
They lingered in the shower until the water ran cold, chasing them out. Erin dressed in faded jeans and a sweater, and could not help but observe as Robert did the same. His movement was slow and careful, but undeniably effective. She rested her chin on her hand as she watched him secure his arm brace, the fingers of his right hand wiggling the fingers of his left hand with careful determination.  
  
Robert could feel the weight of her stare, and although his frustration made him edgy and ready to toss some caustic remark her way, he remained silent. "So, am I just stereotyping, or shouldn't you be pouring over bridal magazines, picking out china patterns, squealing on the telephone with your little girlfriends?"  
  
Erin grinned as she slipped her fingers into her still damp hair, twisting it into a braid. "Well, I probably would be, you know, if my parents were still around, or if I had brothers and sisters." She paused, then added, "Don't get me wrong. I am excited." She secured her hair with an elastic and crossed the room to put her arms around his neck. "I just don't think we need to make a huge fuss. You know, something small and private and elegant." She nuzzled his jaw, noticing his stiff upper lip. "What?" She asked.  
  
"You don't think anybody would come if we went the other way, do you?" His voice was a bit sullen.  
  
"Oh, Robert," she chided gently, kissing his unresponsive lips. "Actually, you're wrong about that. I think everybody would come."  
  
"Just to see with their own eyes if you'd really go through with it."  
  
Erin thought about playing off his statement with a joke, but the look in his eyes changed her mind. "Answer something for me: do you care what most people think of you?"  
  
"No." His answer was quick and sure.  
  
"Okay. Neither do I." His expression clouded with doubt. "All I care about is how I feel. How you feel. The rest of them? Well, they can all go to hell." She took his face gently in her hands. "Robert, my marrying you isn't about turning you into some 'nice guy'. It's not about smoothing out those rough edges so we can all 'just get along'. I'm marrying you because I love you, and I want to be with you." She forced his eyes to meet hers. "And, you'll probably never get me to say this out loud again, but." she trailed off, choosing her words with great care. "That abrasive, caustic wit; that titanic sense of confidence; that willingness to say whatever you think and make no apologies for it.those are all parts of the man I want to be with for the rest of my life. The fact that that side can exist in the same body as this side," she trailed her fingers over his collarbone, "it fascinates me. I don't want you to lose that. I certainly don't want you to get rid of it on my account. Okay?"  
  
Robert wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could. "So, basically what you're saying is that, given the choice between the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster."  
  
"Roller coaster." She grinned. "Any day of the week." She kissed him warmly, then pulled him towards the door. "Come on. Coffee." She stopped to grab the newspaper she'd abandoned earlier. He followed her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The timer on the coffeepot had switched on, and a fresh pot sat waiting for them. Erin poured two cups, handing one to Robert. He watched her unfold the front page of the Sun Times as she perched on one of the stools at the counter.  
  
"So let me ask you this." Robert began, leaning against the marble countertop. She sipped her coffee, looking over her mug with curious eyes. "What would think about putting your place up for sale?"  
  
Erin's expression was a combination of excitement and nostalgia. "Really?"  
  
"Yes, really. Doesn't seem wise to own a summer home in the same city as your winter home. Unless, of course, we want to spoil the girls beyond their wildest dreams and keep it as the most spacious doghouse in Chicago."  
  
Erin laughed at the thought. "So, this would officially be home?"  
  
Robert shrugged. "I've always thought of it that way." He moved to take a seat next to her. "We can do all those things you said before - skylight, new carpet, new furniture."  
  
"86 a few Donalds and Daffys?"  
  
"Hey, leave my ducks alone. I like my ducks."  
  
Erin laughed. "Uh, yeah, I know."  
  
Robert sulked for a minute, then nudged her with his shoulder. "They're a symbol of virility."  
  
Erin nudged back. "So's your bald head. I don't see a picture of that in every room."  
  
"Watch it, smartass. I was a redhead once too, you know."  
  
They fell into a comfortable silence, drinking their coffee and sharing the paper. After a while, Robert rose from his chair and disappeared from the room. Erin lingered in the kitchen a bit longer. When she finally went looking for him, she found him pacing in front of the picture window that looked out onto the driveway. She glanced at her watch and realized, had they been able to reach the hospital, he would have been in physical therapy by now. She moved to the couch and sat down. "Hey, you. Come here." Robert moved to sit next to her, and she lay an overstuffed pillow on the cushion between them. She held her hands out for his left arm. "I won't be able to give you a progress report, but I can help you do the work." Gratefully, he lay his arm down, and Erin began the routine his therapist had been using. She wasn't sure what to say, but it seemed to her that his wrist was stronger, and he was able to elicit more response from his fingers then she had previously seen. Not wanting to get his hopes up, but needing to break the silence, she spoke casually.  
  
"What do you think about the chapel at the hospital?"  
  
"What about it?" He was concentrating intensely.  
  
"What do you think about having a small ceremony there?" Erin suggested.  
  
"You're serious?" Robert glanced up from his wrist to take in her expression..  
  
She nodded. "It's a lovely little sanctuary, it's always open, and it would make it that much easier for us to have the people who matter there." As she talked, she continued the flexing and extending of Robert's fingers. "Then, afterward, we could have something here. Not a formal reception, mind you; more like a party. Some food, some drinks, some music."  
  
Robert relaxed from his regimen and looked at her closely. "Is that what you want?"  
  
Erin nodded, a light slowly dawning in her eyes. "Yeah. The more I think about it.that's exactly what I want."  
  
"The we will make it so." Robert leaned in to kiss her. Erin was about to lose herself in the moment, when she felt something slide across the inside of her wrist. She looked down in surprise, realizing it was the forefinger of his left hand. "Did you just."  
  
Robert nodded. "That's my new trick. Thought I'd show you." She threw her arms around him and crushed him in a hug of elation. When she finally released him, he asked, "Want to see it again?" She nodded, lying her hand down next to his. Once again, he moved his finger over her skin, and she shivered. "Oh, my God. Robert." she trailed off, not knowing what else to say.  
  
"Matter of time, kid," he spoke purposefully. "Matter of time."  
  
  
  
"Dr. Windsor, your realtor is on the phone."  
  
Erin took the phone from Randi. "Doris? Yeah, it's Erin. I.no, Doris, I don't care what Dr. Romano said.look, it's my name on the mortgage, not his.yes, I know he can be difficult.well, I appreciate your concern, but.look, Doris, just tell them my insurance company has agreed to cover the new roof, okay? And from now on, just call me directly with any questions, all right? Yes, just pretend you and Robert never met. Thanks, Doris." Erin hung up the phone, looking a bit shell-shocked as Abby and Randi laughed.  
  
"I didn't know you were selling your place." Randi said.  
  
"Yeah. Would you believe Robert didn't want to move in there?"  
  
"Well, his master bathroom is bigger than your entire kitchen," Randi shrugged.  
  
Erin nodded automatically, then her brow knitted in confusion. "When were you in his master bathroom?" Randi sauntered towards the ladies room without a reply. "Should I be worried about that?" Erin asked Abby, who laughed and responded, "I think she's just messing with you." The doctor and nurse headed toward exam four together to check on a patient.  
  
"So you think this offer's a good one?" Abby asked as Erin pressed her stethoscope to the chest of the unconscious man, who had been brought in for an overdose of Vicoden.  
  
"You better believe it - they're actually willing to pay three thousand more than the appraisal value, as long as I replace the roof. And keep Robert away from my realtor. I swear, you'd think we were negotiating the sale of the Taj Mahal." Erin explained as Abby took the patient's blood pressure.  
  
"BP 110 over 56," she announced. "So, you're going to accept it?"  
  
"Are you kidding?" Erin laughed. "It's the only decent offer I've had in the two months since the damn thing's been on the market. I thought I was going to have to set it on fire to get rid of it." The pair left the gentleman in the bed to sleep off the affects of the drugs and walked into the lounge. Erin rummaged in the refrigerator for a juice while Abby filled a mug with coffee. "So you sell the house," she spoke as she added cream and sugar. "Then what?"  
  
"Well, I'm already pretty much moved into his place - just a few boxes of stuff left to transfer and a few pieces of furniture to sell. So I guess, once the closing is official, all that will be left is for him to make an honest woman out of me." Erin grinned, sitting down at the table.  
  
Abby sat across for her. "Does he still want to wait until his nine month review?" She was referring to Robert's own personal D-Day: the day he was hoping to be cleared to return to surgery.  
  
"Actually, he said something last night about Christmas." Erin grinned.  
  
"Christmas? As in a month from now?" Abby was surprised.  
  
"Well, maybe not Christmas Day, but, you know, sometime in that week."  
  
Abby leaned over to hug her friend. "I'm so happy for you."  
  
The door swung open and Carter sauntered in. "Hey, let me get some of that action." He wrapped his arms around both women, then leaned in to place a sweet, sincere kiss at the corner of Abby's mouth. "So, what's with all the free love?" He asked, spinning the dial on his locker.  
  
"Ask her," Abby grinned. "I need to get those lab results on the lady in curtain two." She exited the lounge and John took her seat. "So, what's up?" He asked Erin, his eyes bright and expectant.  
  
"Well, I think I sold my house."  
  
"Oh, yeah? That's great!"  
  
Erin nodded. "And Robert wants to get married the week of Christmas."  
  
John's face broke into a grin. "Get out! It's really going to happen?"  
  
"I guess so." She smiled shyly. John rose to his feet and gestured for her to do the same. She obeyed and he embraced her warmly. "My God," he breathed. "You're going to be a Romano."  
  
"Looks that way."  
  
"You're going to be Dr. Erin Windsor-Romano."  
  
"Oh, no! Around her I'll always be just plain old Windsor. I don't think County General has room for more than one Romano." Erin laughed.  
  
"I sometimes wonder if it has room for the one we've got." They both laughed at that, and Erin sat back down as he moved to the coffeepot. She felt suddenly shy, and John sensed the change in her demeanor. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Well," she bit her lip. "There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"You know, we aren't doing anything big. Just a small service in the Chapel upstairs and a get-together at the house after. We want to keep things simple. But."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"Well, you know my parents are gone, and I'm an only child, so no brothers and sisters."  
  
"Uh-huh," Carter was uncertain where she was headed.  
  
Erin blushed. "I still need someone to give me away, someone to stand up for me.." She looked into his face with a sweet smile. "And, since you're the best friend I've ever had, I was just wondering."  
  
John took her hands and squeezed them. "I would be honored."  
  
Erin sighed heavily as he moved to embrace her once more. "Excellent. Now all I need is a dress."  
  
Upstairs, Robert was wrapping up another therapy session, sweaty and spent and feeling pretty good about it. The movement in the fingers of his left hand was still quite sluggish, but it was there. His level of response surprised even his therapist, although she cautioned him that he still had quite some distance to cover before wielding a scalpel once again.  
  
"Don't get so chipper on me there, doc, it might go to my head," he tossed out caustically. Wiping his neck with a towel, he strode towards his office. "Brenda, where is Corday?"  
  
"Probably just scrubbing out of that splenectomy that came from the ER this morning."  
  
"Well, page her. I expect her in my office in fifteen minutes." He poured himself a glass of water and drank it down in three hearty swallows. When Elizabeth appeared in his doorway, he greeted her robustly. "Lizzie! Did the patient make it through or shall we scrap him for parts?"  
  
"You're awfully chipper this afternoon, Robert," she observed dryly. "Mow down a transient on your way to work this morning?"  
  
"Ha-ha, very funny. OIG officer, actually." He sat down at his desk with a flourish. "Nope, I've got much more pleasant things to bask in the glow of here. The finance committee shot down Weaver's proposed 'administration liaison'; which I think is actually lesbian for 'spy intended to dig up dirt on the poor bastard whose authority you wish to usurp'. My therapy is going well, and I should be back in the OR soon. Christmas is coming, and," he inspected his fingernails briefly, "I'm getting married."  
  
"You two finally set a date?" Elizabeth smiled.  
  
"December 27th. Mark your calendar, alert the media and prep the ER for the surge of broken hearts: Robert Romano is officially taking himself off the market."  
  
"Well, that's wonderful. Congratulations. I'm sure Erin is thrilled."  
  
"Wouldn't you be if you were in her shoes?" Robert's grin softened around the edges. "Seriously though." He gestured for her to sit across from him. "You know we're going to do it here. Since she doesn't have any family, she wants as many of her friends around as possible. She figures the best way to achieve that is to take her vows smack dab in the center of her workplace."  
  
"I think it's a nice idea, actually." Her eyes misted a bit. "I know things would have been much easier for Mark and I, had we chosen that path."  
  
The held a respectful silence for a moment. Then Robert spoke in an even tone. "Erin plans on asking Carter to stand up for her. I need someone to do the same." He trailed off, and Elizabeth giggled ass he caught his meaning. "Robert, are you asking me to be your best man?"  
  
"Well, it was either you or Weaver."  
  
"Robert!" She chided him. Then she straightened her shoulders. "Do I have to wear a tuxedo?"  
  
"Lizzie." Her pager began beeping. She checked it briefly. "That's the ER." She rose to her feet. "I guess you've found your.well, whatever I am." She extended her hand. He accepted it, squeezing her fingers.  
  
"Friend?" He asked softly.  
  
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. I like the sound of that." 


	16. Turn the Page

Four days later, Robert and Erin drove to her house for what would be the last time. She had the signed purchase agreement in her purse, and was prepared to hand over the keys to the new tenants. Robert parked the car at the end of the drive and followed her inside. He could see her eyes misting over as she moved through the empty rooms. He moved quietly behind her. "Feeling nostalgic?"  
  
She nodded. "I can still remember how great it felt the first time I set foot in here." She murmured softly. "My own place."  
  
Robert moved up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She turned and looked up at him. "I need something from you," she whispered hoarsely. She gestured to the empty rooms. "This is all the space that I've ever had in the world. The only place where I was in control." she trailed off remembering so much at once: Carter and Carol and Doug and Mark at her house warming, bringing Sophie home as a puppy, hanging the curtains her mother had made in the kitchen, installing her own ceiling fans. A tear slid from each eye. "I'm giving that up because I want to be with you, to share a space with you, to build something new. And I'm terrified." Robert opened his mouth to soothe her, but she would not be interrupted. "Because I have lost almost everything I ever had to hold on to. So I need you to promise me, promise me, that I won't lose you, too." She buried her face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around her. He held her for a long moment, waiting for the tide of her emotion to ebb. When it did, he lifted her face and kissed her lips.  
  
"Now you listen to me, gorgeous. I have no intention of going anywhere. And trust me, if I do, it's only because you're coming with me. It may sound sexist, and maybe I am, but as far as I'm concerned, your ass is mine. Literally. Just like my car, my house, my summer place in Cozumel. You belong to me now."  
  
Erin giggled a little. "You have a summer place in Cozumel?" She asked.  
  
"Shut up." She realized he was deadly serious. "You said you could handle living with me the way I am? Well, that's the way I am. We work together and we communicate as equals, and I will always treat you like one." She cocked an eyebrow and he clarified himself. "I'll always try to treat you like one. But when you break this thing down to its pure Darwinian essence, that's it. You are mine. And I keep what's mine." His brown eyes, so dark and smoky, bore into hers. "So tell me right now, are you in, or are you out?"  
  
At that moment, the front door swung open, and the realtor stepped in the front door. "Well, the Archers are here. Are we ready to turn over the keys?  
  
Never breaking the intense gaze she and Robert shared, Erin fished the keys out of her pocket and tossed them to the woman. Then she kissed him with a depth and a passion that made Doris and the Archers flush to the roots of their hair.  
  
"Okay. Take me home."  
  
  
  
The month of December blew into Chicago with a cold and icy force. Erin was thrilled when the almanac predicted snow flurries for their wedding day, an attitude that was lost on Robert completely. He was looking forward to escaping the "frozen tundra" (as he put it) and winging his new bride to Mexico for sun, sand, and deep sea diving.  
  
About a week before the wedding, Erin made her way through the over- crowded waiting area of the ER. She had just started her shift an hour before, but could already tell the day was going to be hell on wheels. She was headed for triage to collect her next patient, when a skinny young woman grabbed her arm. "Hey, lady! How long you gonna make my girl here wait?" Erin glanced at her, and at the young woman seated in chairs next to her. Both women were ragged-looking, wearing tattered winter coats over short skirts and bare legs. It was quite obvious that both were hookers. The belligerent one seemed fine, but to her credit, the girl still seated looked washed out, and a bit dizzy. Drunk, drugged up, flu.Erin could see all were a possibility. She wrested her arm gently away from the first woman's grasp. "I'm very sorry; I'm sure that triage is doing their best. You'll just have to wait your turn."  
  
She had only stepped a few feet away, when a cry pierced the air. Erin turned, and saw the second young woman slump from her chair to the floor, her body jerking and flailing. "I need a gurney!" She called out, falling to her knees and rolling the woman on to her back. "She's seizing!" She snapped her fingers at the girls' friend. "You."  
  
"Marissa." she supplied, looking frightened.  
  
"Marissa, what's her name?"  
  
"Jacinda."  
  
Malik and Chuney arrived with a gurney and helped Erin lift Jacinda onto it. "Trauma one is open," Malik said, and Erin moved quickly in that direction. Once in the trauma room, the team went to work, setting up IV's and drawing samples as Erin barked out orders for tests. The seizure stopped, and Erin checked the girl's vital signs. "Heartbeat's irregular, what's her BP?"  
  
"150 over 95."  
  
Erin opened the patient's mouth. "No gag reflex. She's not protecting her airway." As she prepared to intubate, Chuney announced that the IV was in place. "30 of Topamax, IV push." Erin instructed as she withdrew the guide from the young woman's throat. "I'm in." She was about to give more instructions when the monitors began beeping wildly. "Dammit! She's seizing again!" She looked over the gurney to the young woman hovering by the door. "Marissa, is she using anything? Any kind of drug at all?"  
  
"No way! Girlfriend's clean. She don't even take those pills no more."  
  
"She used to take pills?" As Erin asked, Malik was already rummaging through the patient's purse. He pulled out a prescription bottle.  
  
"Clorazepate," he announced.  
  
"She's got epilepsy." Erin grimaced. "Get an EEG in here, page neuro, STAT!" She pressed her stethoscope to the girl's chest once more. "Come on, Jacinda, hang in there." To Marissa, she spoke as gently as possible. "Marissa, I need you to wait outside now."  
  
"But."  
  
"You've done everything you could to help her. Now you have to go so we can take care of her." Chuney broke away long enough to escort the shaking woman back to the waiting area.  
  
They continued to work on the young woman for the next forty-five minutes, administering medication, even shocking her heart to keep it beating. But, when her body finally stopped it's twitching and jerking, the news was not good. The EEG was not registering any meaningful brain activity. "She's gone," Erin sighed heavily. "The part that made her human anyway." She snapped off her gloves and checked the life-support machines that were keeping the young woman's body viable and picked up the chart that held the results of her lab work. She flipped the pages as Malik headed for the door. "Her driver's license says she's an organ donor. I'll go call UNOS." Erin nodded, until something on the chart caught her eye.  
  
"Hang on a second, Malik." She looked closer. "Oh, damn," she sighed heavily. "Hold off on making that call, and bring me a portable ultrasound." Malik looked at her curiously.  
  
"Icon is positive." Erin sighed again. "She's pregnant."  
  
  
  
The ultrasound confirmed it. "Looks like about nine weeks," Erin mused sadly, listening to the whoosh of the tiny heartbeat. Chuney shook her head. "So now what do we do?"  
  
Erin looked utterly flummoxed. "I have no idea." She switched off the sonogram and straightened Jacinda's drape. "Her girlfriend still out there?" Chuney nodded. Erin pressed her fingers to her temples. "Give me a few minutes. I'll be right back." She walked out to the waiting room and found the young woman who had come in with her patient. "Marissa, I'm Dr. Windsor. Sorry I didn't tell you that earlier." The girl stared up at her blankly. Erin sat down next to her. "I need to ask you a couple of questions. Jacinda.well.she wasn't married, was she?" Marissa shook her head. "Did she have a steady boyfriend?"  
  
"Does it look to you like we do a lot of going steady?" The girl snapped.  
  
Erin continued gently. "So.she was a prostitute." Marissa nodded. "Well, did she have a favorite client? Someone she may have seen more of than the others?"  
  
Marissa shook her head. "Naw, nothin' like that."  
  
"Okay," Erin exhaled slowly. "What about family?"  
  
"Her mom and dad's in Philly. Sent her money a couple of times."  
  
"Do you have any idea how I could get in touch with them?"  
  
Marissa's face suddenly changed. "When you gonna let her out of there?"  
  
Erin bowed her head. "Marissa, did you know Jacinda had epilepsy?" The girl shook her head once more. "Well, she did. Those pills she quit taking? They were meant to prevent her from having seizures. When she stopped taking them, the seizures broke through. We were unable to stop them before." she took a breath. "Before Jacinda suffered irreparable, permanent brain damage."  
  
"She dead?" The young woman's face paled.  
  
"Her brain is, yes. There are some decisions to be made, and I really need to speak with Jacinda's parents. Can you help me please?"  
  
Marissa nodded numbly, and Erin helped her to her feet. They moved into the lounge and closed the door.  
  
  
  
When Erin returned to the trauma room, she was surprised to find Robert, standing over the gurney and making notes on the chart. "What are you doing here?" She was glad to see him, and stood close to him, letting her shoulder brush his.  
  
"Oh, just wondering why you've got this wonderfully preserved organ farm here and neither UNOS or the transplant coordinator have been notified. We should be preparing for the harvest, my love."  
  
Erin slipped her hands into her pockets. "I just spent fifteen minutes trying to get her parents on the phone in Philadelphia, with no luck. I figured they needed to be informed of the situation. I'm guessing I'll hear from them after five."  
  
"Well, that's awful considerate of you, but this girl is twenty-two years old and a signed donor. I don't see what her parents have to do with that at all."  
  
Erin's face clouded. "Robert, you are aware that she's pregnant."  
  
"Ye-eah, and?"  
  
"If you take her upstairs for harvest, the fetus will abort from the trauma."  
  
"That's how it works, yes." His voice was not unkind.  
  
"Don't you think her parents should be given an opportunity to weigh in with their opinion?" Erin was stunned.  
  
"Not really, no."  
  
"Robert!" Erin was taken aback. "This is their grandchild we're talking about."  
  
"No, this is the fetus implanted in their runaway daughter by some Anonymous John who probably only gave her twenty bucks in return for serving as his sperm receptacle."  
  
"That's not the point!" She insisted hotly.  
  
"That is the point. This girl was living on the streets, selling her body to strangers. How can you even be sure that she knew she was pregnant?"  
  
"Look at her lab report, Robert." She flipped angrily through the papers.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. No crack, no heroine."  
  
"No drugs at all! Not clorazepate, not diazepam, not Dilantin, no AED's at all!" Erin took a breath. "She quit taking her meds because she thought they would hurt the baby. Which says to me that she intended to keep it."  
  
"Oh, you know that for a fact, do you?" Robert crossed his arms over his chest. "What, did she sit up in the middle of her brain frying and say, 'Oh, by the way, please don't give me any drugs or shoot any x-rays because there's a stork in my future'?"  
  
"I think it's a safe assumption." Erin insisted.  
  
"No, here's a safe assumption." Robert's voice went deadly soft. "You try and drag her parents into this and you are going to be making a tragic mistake. They already had to live through their child taking off and destroying her life. Now you want them to entertain the idea of allowing a reminder of their daughter's reckless behavior into their lives for the next eighteen years?"  
  
Erin glared at him angrily. "It's a chance for them to hold on to a living, breathing piece of her."  
  
"You don't know that. You don't even know if that's a viable fetus."  
  
"It has a strong, steady heartbeat." Erin spat.  
  
"Yeah, and maybe brain damage or birth defects, maybe even FAS. Your little 'Clean Queen' had a BAL of .12. Even if the fetus were healthy now, it could still abort from the trauma of what just happened anytime within the next thirty-six hours."  
  
"And you don't even think we should wait and see?" Erin was furious.  
  
"No, I don't think we should turn this girl into a human incubator. And if we do things my way, her parents get to live with her legacy being the saved lives of the people who received her organs, not the bastard child of some cheap and meaningless fifteen-minute romp in the back seat of a car." At that moment, two members of the transplant team walked briskly into the room. "Here she is, boys." Robert greeted them "Let's roll."  
  
Erin suddenly grabbed the bedrail. "I'm not signing her out to you."  
  
Robert looked at her, tight lipped. "I don't need you to. You have lost all professional perspective in regards to this patient and I am relieving you of her care."  
  
"You arrogant bastard," Erin began angrily.  
  
"And if you don't watch that mouth of yours, I'll relieve you of the rest of your duties as well!" Robert roared, cutting her off. "Last I checked, I was still Chief of Staff, and your boss!"  
  
"Oh, yes," Erin hissed. "God forbid anyone disagree with the Great Rocket Romano."  
  
"Sign over your patients and get the hell out of here." Robert commanded. Incensed, but not surprised, Erin threw Jacinda's chart at him. It landed at his feet with a clatter, and she stalked angrily from the room. Robert watched her go, his jaw clenched in fury. Then he noticed the two men flanking the bed, watching him in muted disbelief. "What the hell are you staring at? Get your asses upstairs!"  
  
  
  
Robert supervised the harvesting of Jacinda's organs with quiet authority, pacing the room and casting glances over the other surgeon's shoulders. He was still reeling a bit from his argument with Erin, but his anger was tempered considerably when he heard a nurse announce softly that the fetus had indeed aborted. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "All right, people. Let's keep our heads in the game." He left the OR four hours later, exhausted, his left arm throbbing with fatigue. He showered in the locker room and dressed slowly. Finally, he collected his things and headed home.  
  
Her car was in the driveway, but the house was dark when he arrived. He trudged slowly up the walk and entered, closing and locking the door behind him. He made his way to his study, where he dropped his valise and poured himself a drink. He savored the burn in his throat for a moment, then walked out into the hall. He could hear movement from upstairs, and he began the climb.  
  
The bed was empty, but the sheets were tousled, as if she'd tried to sleep but couldn't. The door to the master bathroom was open a crack, and he could smell steaming lilac. He crossed the room and nudged the door open wider.  
  
Erin was in the huge garden tub, buried in bubbles up to her ears. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head, save for a few damp tendrils that clung to her temples and neck. She was leaning against the porcelain, eyes closed. Robert leaned quietly against the sink, watching her. After a moment, she sensed his presence and opened her eyes. They were red- rimmed, but dry. "Hey, gorgeous," Robert breathed softly. "You still talking to me?"  
  
"Am I still suspended?"  
  
"Look, if you're expecting me to apologize."  
  
"No," she shook her head, to his surprise. "You were right. I did lose perspective." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away. "I just thought, if they could have something, some piece of her to hold on to.that they wouldn't be left with nothing. That they would have something that could make them, I don't know, not so alone." Robert knelt next to the tub and put his arms around her, never minding the water that soaked into his shirt. He held her for a moment before speaking. "This isn't about that girl, or her parents, is it? This is about you."  
  
She pulled away from him gently and wiped her eyes. "All this wedding and honeymoon planning, selling the house, moving in here.I've been so happy. But I guess it never hit me until tonight that I've been doing it all alone."  
  
"What am I chopped liver?" Robert groused gently.  
  
Erin giggled a little. "Sorry, honey, but in this case, you don't count."  
  
"I know, I know." He rested his chin on the edge of the tub. "I'm just the groom."  
  
"All I could think about were the things that her folks would never see, never be a part of. Like mine." She sobbed a little. Robert took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his.  
  
"You think they aren't a part of all this?" He asked gently. "You think they aren't here right now, in this room? You think I can't see them, looking out at me through your eyes? Telling me to get the hell away from their naked, wet daughter until after the wedding?" Erin laughed and he kissed her forehead. "Trust me, baby, they're here." He brushed his fingers over the flesh above her heart. "They're right here." She kissed him warmly and hugged him once more.  
  
"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you," she said quietly.  
  
"You should be," he replied simply . She raised an eyebrow. "I can't guarantee it won't happen again."  
  
"Then I'll just suspend you again." He leaned in and slipped his tongue between her lips. Erin giggled against his mouth as she realized he was quickly shedding his clothing. "Watch this, dad," he mumbled as he slipped into the water with her. 


	17. Hope Rising

At ten o'clock in the morning on December twenty-seventh, Erin blinked her eyes open. She sat up in bed, yawning and stretching. There came a knock at the door. Abby's voice. "You decent?" The door swung open and she walked into the room with John at her heels. He carried a tray of eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. "Now if you're too nervous just eat the toast." He began, but Erin was already digging into the food.  
  
"The condemned woman ate heartily her last meal," Abby intoned. John laughed as he glanced around the room. "So did you sleep well?"  
  
Erin nodded as she swallowed. "Like a baby. It was really nice of your grandmother to invite me to stay here last night."  
  
"Well, you know Millicent. She's always had a special spot in her heart for you."  
  
"Ha-ha," Erin replied dryly. "She hates me."  
  
Abby looked confused, so John explained. "Gamma thinks that, if Erin and I hadn't been such good friends in med school, I never would have made it through, would never have become a doctor."  
  
Erin nodded affirmation. "That's me, the bad influence." She realized then that John and Abby were essentially sharing pajamas, she wearing the top, he wearing the bottoms. "Oh, now isn't that cute?" She finished her breakfast and pushed the tray aside. "Well, shall we get a move on?" Her two friends nodded.  
  
  
  
At three-thirty in the afternoon on December twenty-seventh, Robert stood before the mirror in his office, straightening the tie of his Armani suit. He fumbled in his pocket to make sure the platinum band was still tucked securely inside. Then he winked at his reflection as the door swung open. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple black linen suit. The trousers were flowing and there was a simple strand of pearls at her throat. "Lizzie!" Robert greeted her with a grin. "Come for one last eyeball before I am officially a married man?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled her usual tolerant smile. "Hello Robert. You're looking quite impressive."  
  
"And you, in a word, are lovely." His simple compliment brought a heady flush to Elizabeth's cheeks. "Did I get this damn thing straight?" He lifted his chin. "Fingers are still a little slow; nothing two weeks of sex on the beach won't cure."  
  
"And, for once, you might actually get more than just the drink." Dr. Corday grinned  
  
"Oh-ho, someone brought their wit today."  
  
A tiny voice interrupted their banter. "Mommy?"  
  
Ella appeared from behind Elizabeth's legs. "It's all right, dear girl." Elizabeth smiled proudly down at her daughter. She knelt to pick up the child, who was a vision of precious in violet satin and lace, her blonde hair brushed to a polished shine. Robert couldn't resist gently touching the little girl's cheek.  
  
"Tell you what, cutie. If my bride doesn't show up, how about you meet me at the altar?" He spoke in a soft comforting voice. Ella grinned shyly and buried her face in Elizabeth's neck. Both adults laughed.  
  
"So, are you almost ready? The chaplain is already down there."  
  
Robert dropped a confident wink. "Let's get this show on the road."  
  
He and Elizabeth made their way to the chapel together. The doors were propped open, and there were people milling about quietly. Robert paused to exchange pleasantries with a few colleagues; Anspaugh, Alex Babcock, Carl De Raad, Janet Coburn, Mary Cain. And then, down the hall came most of the staff from the ER, led by Susan Lewis. "The bride has arrived. We all need to take our places."  
  
Robert felt his heart twist a bit in anticipation as he made his way to the front of the crowd. Elizabeth handed Ella to Shirley and took her spot by Robert's elbow. People made their way to the pews, and soon, every seat was taken. Even then, Donald Anspaugh reported from the back: "There's a crowd back here - I don't think we're going to be able to close the doors."  
  
"That's fine, Don," Robert called out nonchalantly. Aside to Elizabeth: "Playing to a full house today, eh Lizzie?"  
  
"You're soooo popular, Robert." She answered dryly. Soft music began to drift from the organ, and everyone rose to their feet. John appeared in the doorway, holding Erin's hand. Robert found himself unable to breathe.  
  
She was an absolute vision. Her glossy auburn hair was piled, unkempt, on her head. She wore a simple strapless gown of white silk. The empire cut of the dress accentuated her figure exquisitely, falling to just above her ankles. Around her throat was the sparkling platinum choker that Robert had given her just two days before. The look was simple, elegant, and breathtaking. John made his way to the altar, where he shook Robert's hand. He leaned in very close and whispered so only Robert could hear his words:  
  
"Make her cry, and I'll make you sorry."  
  
His tone was light but his eyes were deadly serious. Robert smiled thinly, and then John was tucking Erin's delicate hand into his elbow. "Hey gorgeous," he murmured. "Your Maid of Honor has five o'clock shadow." She giggled a little, regarding him with shining eyes. They turned their attention to the minister.  
  
"It's a very special thing for me to be here today. For all of us to be here. We work in this hospital, day in and day out. Very few of us ever find the time to make it to this room. And when we do, we usually come from a place of pain, of fear, of heartache, of loss. But today, thanks to Erin and Robert, this room is a place of joy, of celebration. They both have asked me not too be too long-winded." There was soft laughter from the assembly. "They both prefer something short and sweet and succinct. On that note."  
  
He proceeded into the vows. Erin and Robert spoke softly and reverently, exchanging rings with a tenderness that touched everyone in the room. When it was finally time for them to share their kiss, Robert pulled her into his arms. "I love you, " he murmured before claiming her lips with his own. She slid her arms around his shoulders, and the crowd behind them applauded.  
  
When the kiss broke, Robert turned to face them. "All right, all right, show's over! Everybody back to work; you expect the patients to treat themselves? Go on, get outta here!" Then he turned back to Erin. "Well, gorgeous, there's a party at home and it's all in your honor. What say we go eat, drink and be married?"  
  
  
  
Sixteen days later, Erin sauntered into the ER, her hair full of sun- kissed highlights and her skin bronzed perfectly. She made her way to the lounge, where Abby and Susan were also preparing to start their shifts. "Oh, my God, how disgusting is this? She's tanned, she's well rested." Susan groused as Erin pulled off her sunglasses. "I didn't think I could feel any worse, Windsor, thanks."  
  
Abby eyed the large pearl hanging from the chain around her throat. "Wow! Did Romano buy that for you?"  
  
"No," Erin grinned broadly. "He fought a three pound oyster for it."  
  
"He actually plucked that out of the ocean?" Susan was amazed.  
  
Erin nodded. "Want to see what else I got?"  
  
"I don't know." Abby looked suspicious. Erin turned her back to them, pushing her shirt down and baring the top of her shoulder. The two women looked and saw a small green jalapeno pepper on her skin. "Say hello to Jose." Erin giggled.  
  
"Oh, cute!" Abby smiled.  
  
"Is that real?" Susan ran her fingers over the design.  
  
Erin shook her head. "I thought about it, but I chickened out. I had another one, a little strawberry." She gestured to her bikini line, ".but, let's just say it didn't last long." Her face was flushed and her eyes were shining, and Susan groaned once more. "Tanned, well rested, and coming off of two weeks of good sex."  
  
"Two weeks of GREAT sex," Erin corrected. "Two weeks of the best sex of my LIFE."  
  
Abby waved her hand as if Erin was sharing too much, but Susan clicked her tongue in interest. "I knew it. Short men always have something to prove. Add to that the fact that he's bald.I knew I should have hit on him when I had the chance." The three women laughed girlishly as they moved out into the hospital.  
  
"So does the Rocket man look as hale and hearty as you?" Abby asked.  
  
"I don't know." Erin said, her smile faltering a bit. "You know he's upstairs with the orthopedic surgeon. Today is the day he's hoping he'll be cleared to operate again."  
  
"Nine months already?" Susan whistled through her teeth.  
  
"Nine months, twelve days, thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes, to be exact."  
  
"But who's counting," interjected Randi.  
  
"I'll tell you who's counting." Erin trailed off, trying to fight the ball of anxiety twisting in her stomach.  
  
Upstairs, Robert was pacing his office. He glanced at his watch impatiently. "Damn it, Brenda, I thought you said eight o'clock." He hollered at his secretary through the open door.  
  
"I did, Dr. Romano."  
  
"Well now it's ten past! Where the hell is he?"  
  
At that moment, Marty walked through the door. "Sorry about that Robert, I had other patients to check on. We all haven't had the luxury of lounging on a white sandy beach with a margarita in one hand and a beautiful woman in the other."  
  
"Well, funny you should bring that up Marty. If you would be so kind as to come check out this hand of mine, I will be more than happy to get back to work." The two men sat at the table and began their work. After what seemed an eternity to Robert, Marty finally breathed a sigh. "Well?"  
  
The man pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "All right, Robert."  
  
"All right what, Marty?" Robert's voice thin, threadbare . "You can start putting yourself back on the surgical schedule."  
  
Robert felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. All he could hear was his own blood racing in his ears, the thudding of his heart.  
  
"Restricted duty for now, of course. Simple procedures that rely mostly on the use of your right hand. And you'll need to have at least one more surgeon present than you usually would, in case you'd need to step out for whatever reason; fatigue, muscle spasm, you know." Marty noticed that Robert was still sitting frozen, unresponsive. "Robert? Did you hear me?"  
  
"Yeah," Romano's voice was barely a puff of air. "Yeah, Marty. I heard you."  
  
Understanding the weight of the information he'd just given, Marty rose from his chair. "You're to be congratulated, Robert. Even if you never have the dexterity for cardio/thoracic again, you've made a remarkable recovery. And don't worry; I'm sure you want to tell people yourself, so consider my lips sealed." He clapped Robert on the shoulder before leaving him alone in the room.  
  
As the shock of the news began to ebb, Robert rose slowly from his seat and made his way to the door. "Brenda," he spoke in a voice that was deadly quiet. "I am going to call the ER and have them send my wife upstairs. When she gets here, you had better be gone. And you had better make sure nothing, and I mean NOTHING, interrupts us." He knew from the look on Brenda's face that she assumed Marty had given him bad news. Exactly what he wanted. He made his way to the desk and dialed the phone.  
  
Downstairs, Erin was just picking up a chart when Randi answered the ringing phone. "Where the hell is Dr. Windsor? You tell her to march her ass up to the Chief of Staff's office and I mean NOW!"  
  
Erin could hear Romano's screaming from where she stood, and her heart sank. "Oh, shit."  
  
"Does that mean his arm still doesn't work?" Randi sniped, slamming down the receiver . "I don't know what it means, Randi." Erin turned and hurried to the elevator. She chewed on her fingernail as the car began its slow ascent.  
  
Dammit! He's worked so hard! He's going to be so furious.  
  
She stepped off onto the surgical floor and headed for his office, noticing the number of people she saw getting smaller and smaller as she drew closer. This seemed to confirm her deepest fear; Romano's pissed, everybody head for the hills. She stopped at his office door and knocked timidly.  
  
"Robert? Robert, it's me. Can I come in?" No response. She tried the knob, and it turned easily in her hand. "Robert, I'm coming in." She swung the door open.  
  
He was not at his desk. She stepped inside. He was not seated on the couch, or in any of the chairs, not standing by the window. She never realized he was behind her until she heard the door slam shut and lock. By then, he had already grabbed her and whirled her around, slamming her back against the wall. She gasped in shock, thinking for a terrified moment that his rage was going to drive him to hit her. But then his mouth pressed down on hers, crushing her lips against her teeth, his tongue finding tiny, acrid traces of blood. His body pinned hers, immobile; his hands were lifting her skirt, and all she could do was cling to him. His fingers were probing her skin, tearing off her panties, and then they were inside her. She gasped sharply against his mouth, a sound that seemed to satisfy him immensely.  
  
"Can you feel that?" He purred. "That's what you call full flexion, extension, and opposition of the digits." His thumb moved languidly over her flesh as well. "How's that for radial and ulnar deviation?"  
  
Erin's mind raced as she tried to absorb everything that was happening. But every time she edged up on some degree of clarity, that strong, insistent hand would move again, and she would be lost in another wave of agonized pleasure. "Oh, Robert," she breathed. He pressed his mouth to her ear, allowing the tip of his tongue to trace the lobe as he spoke: "When we are in this office, in this building, you will address me as Dr. Romano. I'm a surgeon, dammit, and as such, I expect a certain level of respect."  
  
The meaning of his words finally hit home, and Erin felt her heart soar as his mouth found hers once more. Shaking off the last vestiges of shock, she moved her lips eagerly against his. She closed her eyes, and abandoned all reason, breathing only for the man who held her, and the explosions of pure love and hope he created within her. 


	18. The Tangled Web of Weaver

DISCLAIMER: The following, while fictional, is in part inspired by spoilers for upcoming episodes. I have no idea how reliable these spoilers are, but please, consider yourself warned.  
  
Two days later, for the first time in months, Robert strode into the scrub room to prepare for a surgery he was actually scheduled to participate in. As he turned on the water and selected a scrub sponge. The door swung open, and Elizabeth entered the room with a smile. "Good morning, Robert," she grinned. "You're looking quite chipper this morning."  
  
"Lizzie! How the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" He quipped brightly.  
  
"What, you think I'd miss your first time back? Robert, I thought you knew me better than that."  
  
"So you came to observe?" His voice was light, but his eyes regarded her with steely suspicion.  
  
"Actually, I was hoping you'd allow me to scrub in."  
  
"On an appendectomy? What, are you bored, or just hoping I'd let you operate with your eyes closed?" His tone was slightly bitter, and Elizabeth sighed heavily. "Ah, I see. It's neither. You're here to baby-sit." He slammed the water off and continued with his prep.  
  
"Robert, please, try not to be so sensitive. Surely you understand."  
  
"Oh, I understand fine, Lizzie!" He sniped angrily. "We can have med students running around the OR with Parkinson's and HIV positive employees sticking their fingers in God knows where, but God forbid we let a surgeon with fifteen plus years of experience behind the table alone."  
  
Elizabeth's shoulders slumped in resignation. She had been told the hospital's insurance would not cover anything that happened were he left unsupervised, but she was not sure how to get through to him without battering his already bruised ego even further. She was about to leave and seek Anspaugh's opinion when Robert's voice barked out once more:  
  
"Are you coming or not?"  
  
She could see his eyes, dark and unflinching above his mask, but knew he had accepted the situation, at least for the time being. She began to scrub herself, a smile of relief on her face.  
  
Once the entire team was prepped and assembled over the patient on the table, Elizabeth gave Shirley a knowing look. "Shirley, I put some music in the stereo. Would you be so kind as to cue it up for us?"  
  
"My pleasure, Dr. Corday." She pressed the appropriate button as Robert picked up the scalpel. The theme from "2001" began to play in the background, and a titter of giggles sounded through the room. "Ha-ha, very funny," Romano deadpanned, and the laughter swelled. Shaking his head impatiently, he put the blade to skin, making a perfect incision.  
  
"Welcome back, Robert," Elizabeth's voice was warm, and he could tell from her eyes that beneath her mask, she wore a smile. Then an air of "business as usual" fell over the room, and the surgery continued. Halfway through, Robert happened to glance up at the observation window. Leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a small smile on her face, was Erin. Their eyes locked, and he dropped her a small wink. Her smile widened, and she pointed a finger at the patient, as if to say, "Get back to work."  
  
She was still waiting for him when he emerged from the OR. "Congratulations," she breathed softly, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.  
  
"Oh, come on, Windsor. You could have done that procedure." His tone was hard, but his eyes had the smallest twinkle in them.  
  
Erin punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up and take a compliment, you jerk."  
  
He strode down the hall, expecting her to follow him. "You shut up," he quipped. "It wasn't that big a deal."  
  
"So I guess I should call Pathology and tell them you don't want the appy pickled for the mantle as a keepsake after all?" Erin grinned as he shot her a withering look.  
  
"You are twisted, aren't you?" Romano shook his head, realizing he had just opened himself up, wider than wide. And, as expected, she lobbed back:  
  
"You're just figuring that out? I should think it would have been obvious when I allowed myself to get involved with you." She followed him into his office, still grinning, even as he ignored her. "All right, all right, I get it. You've rejoined the ranks of the surgically superior. I'll just leave you to bask in the glow of your victory while I return to my job as a lowly ER peon." She turned to leave, but he called to her from behind his desk.  
  
"Windsor?"  
  
She glanced back over her shoulder.  
  
"Shut the door." She obeyed. "Now come here." She crossed the room, leaning casually on the desk. His dark eyes held her face a moment before he spoke.  
  
"Thank you. For being there."  
  
She smiled at him. "You're welcome."  
  
"I mean it." He spoke urgently. "I never would have been able to step back in that room today if it wasn't for you."  
  
Erin could see how painful it was for him to speak those words. She moved around the desk and knelt in front of him. "Yes, you would have. Even if you were completely alone, you'd have made it." She could feel tears stinging the back of her eyes, and she cleared her throat. "Of course, it probably would have been a hell of a lot harder." He smiled gratefully at her, and pulled her into his embrace. She hugged him back, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
When she finally returned to the ER, she was met by Kerry as she headed for the admit desk. "So, is he out of surgery?" She asked, leaning heavily on her crutch. Erin nodded with a smile. "And everything turned out all right?"  
  
Erin shot her a look. "You sound disappointed, Kerry."  
  
"No, no," Dr. Weaver clarified hurriedly, shaking her head. "I just, well.you never know how things are going to turn out in situations like this, and you can't help but worry. Not just about the patient, mind you, I'm concerned for Robert as well, since he never was one to deal with setbacks very well..."  
  
"Kerry?" Erin cut her off. "You're babbling."  
  
Dr. Weaver closed her mouth with a snap. "I'm sorry. Just - tell him I said 'Congratulations'."  
  
Erin's eyes followed her as she moved off down the hall. I will never understand that woman, she thought to herself, shaking her head. She collected a new chart and headed for chairs. "Mr. Espinoza?"  
  
She continued working for the next couple of hours, reducing a dislocated shoulder, suturing up a scalp lac, and diagnosing an ectopic pregnancy. She was passing Trauma 2 when she heard raised voices from inside. One of them belonged to Robert. Concerned, she stepped into the room.  
  
The state of the area told her immediately that a pretty severe trauma had passed through not long ago. Bloody gloves and drapes littered the floor, Mayo stands with jumbled instruments flanked the portable CT, and there was a splash of spilled blood on the floor. Standing in the middle of the mess, sharing a heated battle of words, were Robert and Kerry.  
  
"Page surgery means exactly that, Kerry - PAGE SURGERY!" Romano spat. "It's not a radio station - you don't get to phone in your personal requests!"  
  
"This was going to be a long and tedious repair, Robert! I felt it necessary to insure that the patient was going to receive the highest standard of care."  
  
"Dale Edson isn't the highest standard of anything! The little weasel needs a roadmap to wipe his own nose!"  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Erin stepped between the two feuding doctors, who both began firing words at her simultaneously.  
  
"Dr. Windsor, this does not concern you -" Kerry began.  
  
"The Furher of the ER here has decided that from now on, when a trauma comes in, she's going to order up her surgical consults like she was at a fast food restaurant. This isn't Burger King, Kerry. You can't have it your way!" Robert stormed ahead.  
  
Kerry was furious. "Robert, she may be your wife, but when in this hospital, Dr. Windsor is my employee."  
  
"And you are mine!" Robert roared.  
  
"TIME OUT!" Erin hollered. She turned to Robert. "Calm down and tell me - "  
  
He paid her no attention. It was as if he didn't see her at all. "Now, you listen to me, Kerry Weaver." His voice was icy. "Don't think, not even for one second, that I don't know what you're trying to pull here. And I'm telling you now, it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than what you've got to bring me down." He whirled around, and in breeze of blue scrub coat, was gone.  
  
Erin turned her bewildered gaze to Kerry, who held up her hand. "Stay out of it, Erin."  
  
"Like hell I will." Erin snapped. "What the hell are you trying to do to him Kerry? Calling upstairs, trying to make sure he's not brought in for a consult? How sleazy is that?" "This man was going to need at least six hours of delicate exploratory surgery and God only knows what all they were going to find. What if he had gotten him up there and frozen? Or had to quit before the job was done? What would that do to him? Did it ever occur to you that I might have Robert's best interests in mind?"  
  
Erin wanted to believe the woman, but the nagging kernel of doubt in her stomach simply would not fall silent. "No," she answered honestly. "I'd like to believe that, Kerry, but I don't."  
  
Kerry's expression was a mixture of pleading and threatening. "Erin, just stay out of it." She turned and walked away, leaving Erin with the beginnings of a headache. She turned and walked out the direction Robert had gone, needing to find him.  
  
She eventually did, standing over the empty table in OR Three. His jaw was set in iron and his eyes were hooded. She stepped quietly into the room, moving to stand opposite him. "She's a bitch, sometimes Robert, but - " she began.  
  
"Don't start." His voice dripped venom.  
  
Erin sighed heavily, folding her arms over her chest. "So what do you want me to do?"  
  
"I didn't ask you to do a damn thing. I didn't ask you to come join in the fun down there. I didn't ask you to come looking for me. And I'm not asking you to make me feel better. In fact, I'd much prefer it if you just got the hell out of here and left me with my 'paranoid delusions'." He spat the last two words at her like nails.  
  
"Fine." Erin turned on her heel and pulled the door open. She walked brusquely out of the room and down the hall.  
  
"Dammit!" Robert slammed his right hand on the operating table, and strode from the room after her. "Windsor, get your ass back here!" She shot him a cold look over her shoulder. He gritted his teeth before adding, "Please?"  
  
Softening, she turned and closed the distance between them. He was still fuming, the heat of his rage coming off his body in palpable waves. "Look, I know you think this is just my ego at work. But I'm telling you, Erin, that bitch is after my job."  
  
She swallowed hard. "I know, Robert."  
  
Though still furious, a hint of relief passed over his face, as if he were comforted by the fact that she believed him. He reached out and roughly pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around the nape of her neck and resting his chin on top of her head. "It's never going to get any easier, is it?"  
  
Erin wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face in his chest. She wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure she could. And she suddenly found herself faced with a growing fear inside her - that, this time, Robert may not be able to out-maneuver the challenges that lay ahead. 


	19. A Bird in the Hand

And then, for a while, life was good.  
  
Robert continued to make strides in his recovery, his left hand growing stronger and more dexterous every day. He was able to perform more procedures in the OR, and actually began enjoying the fact that someone was required to be in the room to oversee him. Whether it was Elizabeth, Anspaugh, or any other member of the other surgical staff, it always provided him the opportunity to gloat over the fact that they stood idly by while he completed the work with precise execution.  
  
With him resuming hours in the OR in addition to his administrative work, Erin found herself returning to her previous break-neck schedule as well. She arrived in the ER at six o'clock one evening, set to work her first full overnight shift in weeks. She went into the lounge to drop off her things, finding Susan on the telephone. She waved a silent greeting, grinning as she listened to the blonde woman barking orders into the receiver. "I don't care how you do it, just get that blood here now! We're an urban trauma center - it is simply unacceptable for us to have such a small supply of O neg." She rolled her eyes at Erin, who tried not to laugh. "Well, Dr. Weaver isn't here right now," she snapped at the voice on the other end of the line. "But I'll tell you what. If you'd like, I can call her at home and tell her...oh, I'm so glad you see things my way." She slammed down the phone and made a strangled noise in her throat. "Sometimes I hate this job!"  
  
Erin slipped into her lab coat with a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders. "Dr. Weaver isn't here?" She repeated. Susan nodded, offering some superfluous explanation, which Erin barely heard. All she could think was what a serendipitous turn of events that was, since Robert had insisted on covering the ER that night. When Susan finished speaking, Erin asked if she was on all night. "Not if I can help it," Dr. Lewis groaned. "But who knows if Kovac is going to show up on time."  
  
The two women left the lounge together and headed for the admit desk, where Erin briefly scanned the board. "Well, at least it's shaping up to be a quiet night." Her brow furrowed a bit. "We sent an obstructed bowel upstairs half an hour ago?" Susan nodded. "Who's the surgeon?"  
  
"Your one and only," Dr. Lewis grinned. "Think he regrets getting back in the OR yet?" She snickered.  
  
Erin giggled a bit as well. "It's certainly not the sexiest procedure he's ever done."  
  
"Forget whether the procedure is sexy or not.just make him wash his hand before coming to bed."  
  
  
  
Upstairs in OR three, things were unfolding as normal. Robert had opened the patient's stomach with motions that were little more than reflex, and he and Donald set about cleaning out they mess they found.  
  
"So Donald, did you read over that proposal about having our transplant service expand their horizons into pancreatic transference research? Seems to me there's a lot of promise there."  
  
"I did, Robert, and you make some interesting points."  
  
"Absolutely. The techniques are getting better and better, patients are reporting higher and higher levels of successful insulin control, and the transplants themselves are viable for twice the amount of time once projected. It's the first step towards wiping out diabetes. County needs to be on the cutting edge of that, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes, but Robert, the problem is the lack of viable organs for donation." Anspaugh glanced across the table. "This isn't the kind of situation like where a parent or a sibling can give up a kidney - these procedures rely entirely on organs harvested from the deceased donors."  
  
"True, true," Robert smirked beneath his mask. "But just a few short years ago, we thought the same about the liver. Now look at what we can do. We can harvest a portion of one lobe from a living donor, a section that regenerates on its own. And that small amount of tissue is all that's needed to save a life."  
  
"Yes, I understand that." Donald was beginning to sound exasperated. "But there is nothing that conclusively shows that the pancreas has regenerative power, or that so small a tissue sample can make such a difference.  
  
"Right." The smirk grew wider. "Hence the syntax 'pancreatic transference research'."  
  
The two men eyed each other over the table. "Would you retract please, Dr. Romano?"  
  
"With pleasure, Dr. Anspaugh. Shirley, suction."  
  
They resumed their work. "You're Chief of Staff, Robert, and decisions like this are certainly within your discretion. However, I feel I would be remiss if I didn't remind you that you should spend a great deal of time and consideration before you invest in a venture that could end up costing more than it gains. Resources are limited - we must do everything in our power to see that they are not squandered."  
  
Robert opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Shirley. "Dr. Romano, you're obstructing my field."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You asked for suction, but the field is obscured. You need more retraction."  
  
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Robert allowed his focus to shift to the retractor in his hand.  
  
His left hand.  
  
His heart stopped briefly.  
  
He remembered inserting the tool, applying the necessary pressure. The tissue had folded back like butter, revealing almost the entire interior of the bowel capsule. He knew it had. Otherwise Donald would never have been able to attach that clamp.  
  
So why was it now bowing in?  
  
He tightened his fingers, felt metal through latex.. Little change.  
  
Relax. Flex the wrist.  
  
Some improvement. Not enough. "Robert, are you okay?" Anspaugh. Shut up, you doddering old-school fart.  
  
He clenched his teeth and pulled back his entire arm. The incision opened. He closed his eyes, listening to the gurgling hiss of the suction catheter. Cover, quickly. "Shirley, take the retractor. I want to explore the posterior compartment." He ignored the exchanged glances between nurse and senior surgeon. Finish and get out, finish and get out, finish.  
  
  
  
He left Donald to close. Snapped off soiled gloves, tore off bloody drape. Swept off mask and cap with one deft whisk of his hand. His left hand. At least it's still good for something. He donned his scrub coat, exploded out of the scrub room, and strode down the hall. Brenda was speaking before he even reached her desk, prattling on about messages and meetings. "Brenda, go home." The woman blanched in surprise. But, never one to look a gift Romano in the mouth, she made some demurral about things waiting until tomorrow while grabbing her purse. He was in his office with the door closed before she even rounded her desk. He sat in his chair, willing his breath to slow, his heart to calm.  
  
No reason to get worked up, no reason at all.  
  
He placed his hand on the desk.  
  
Flex.  
  
Fingers moving like through molasses. He gritted his teeth.  
  
Extend.  
  
He couldn't get them fully straightened.  
  
Fuck.  
  
  
  
Six a.m. Erin was exhausted with inactivity. An entire night shift had passed with no major trauma. Only the third such night in all her years at County. The minutes had ticked by like hours. She had contemplated going upstairs, or paging him down. But she thought better of it. Husband or not, Robert Romano had a very specific image built in the halls of the hospital. One he intended to keep. Best not to monkey with tradition. She moved to the lounge, collected her things. Walked to the elevator, punched the button for the fourth floor. Silent ascension. She made her way to his office and tapped on the glass. Something unintelligible mumbled from inside. Turning the knob, she stuck her head in. "Sounds like somebody hasn't had their coffee yet."  
  
He was slumped in his chair, staring off into nothing. She made her way to the desk. "Tough night?"  
  
"Uneventful." His voice was dull.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that. Just didn't have a lot to send you. I thought about going out and shoving somebody in front of the El around one." As she spoke, she made her way behind him and began to rub his shoulders. "But you know how it is these days, with cops and courts and lawyers." She realized he wasn't listening to her. Not that she blamed him. She kissed the top of his head. "I'll take you to breakfast."  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"Okay. I'll take you home, put you to bed."  
  
He sighed heavily. "I'm not tired."  
  
"Oh, good! Neither am I." She moved to kneel in front of him, but he seemed to look right through her. "Robert? Are you all right?"  
  
"Yep. All right. That's me. All right, no left." He chuckled hollowly.  
  
Erin became immediately concerned. "Did something happen?" She lifted his hand in hers, but he pulled it firmly away from her. "Robert."  
  
"Windsor." His voice held a note of warning. She felt a cold hand of fear wrap around her heart.  
  
It all came down to hands, didn't it? Irony. Pretty fucking ironic from time to time.  
  
She squeezed his fingers. "There has to be something I can do."  
  
He looked at her, naked exhaustion in his eyes.  
  
"Not unless you can make it April." 


	20. Crossroads

Author's note: Well, gentle reader, we are reaching the end here...this chapter, maybe one more. You have been so kind to indulge me, and your feedback has been treasured. Without it, we may never have come this far.  
  
It's a romance, right? And the ones who really own him are torturing him (and us) enough lately, right? If it's Romano angst you want, I have to say, you won't find much here. Some...but not a lot. Could there be such a thing as a happy ending for this guy?  
  
Oh, another reminder: what you are about to read is based on spoilers/speculations about upcoming episodes. I have no idea how reliable these spoilers are, but please, consider yourselves warned.  
  
Read on...  
  
  
  
March in Chicago was always so morose. Rain, rain, and oh - guess what? More rain. Seasonal allergens, barometric pressure, medical students - all things that swirled around him to make his head ache.  
  
Yep. Med students. Twenty years behind the table, and here he was, playing babysitter to a bunch of fourth year Dicks and Janes, none of whom seemed know a twelve blade from a tire iron. Got to hand it to that Weaver...she finally mastered the art of the low blow.  
  
Well, she did have a hell of a teacher.  
  
It didn't really come as any big surprise, losing the Chief of Staff position to her. He always knew what she was capable of, and the cat and mouse was quite interesting from time to time. And at least he could take solace in the fact that she never would have won, had he not handed her his own ass on a platter.  
  
He should never have stepped into the damn OR.  
  
He knew the weakness was pervasive. It had been for days. Fluctuating, yes - some days stronger than others, some days almost back to normal. But there was no normal anymore. And he should have known that. But hey.what's a little variety in the world of rectal abscess.  
  
Well, it's a lot actually.  
  
A hell of a lot.  
  
They didn't take his job away for that. He'd had patients die before. And there was no proof of negligence. Of incompetence. More importantly, no lawsuit. But his confidence was badly shaken, and it seemed the only person he'd been able to hide that from was himself.  
  
So she Weavered her way in.and he'd let it happen.  
  
No more Chief of Staff, no more Chief of Surgery. "Don't worry, Robert, you're an asset to this hospital and the faculty. We will always have a place for you here, even if we have to make one up as we go along."  
  
Waxes of, "Per Diem means 'per my discretion'." Nice little karmic kick in the ass.  
  
Elizabeth reassuring him that, "This isn't over, Robert, you've years of practicing medicine ahead of you."  
  
No offense, Lizzie, but swallow it sideways. And choke on it.  
  
He strode impatiently down the hall of the ER, his reluctant disciples in tow. He dropped the chart he was holding on the admit desk with a clatter, taking a sip of pleasure in the way it made Jerry jump. "There's the chart for the rule out MI in curtain two, here are those that are the bright and shining future of medicine, where the hell's my wife?"  
  
"Uh, sorry, Dr. Romano. She's not here."  
  
Robert looked at him dully. "Obviously not, Jerry. If she were, I wouldn't have to ask for her."  
  
"What I mean is that Dr. Windsor, I mean - Dr. Romano, I mean."  
  
"I know who she is Jerry! Will you get to the friggin' point?"  
  
"Erin went home over an hour ago. Said she wasn't feeling well. Dr. Lewis found her yakking in the bathroom, so I guess she's got the flu, or something."  
  
Robert heaved a heavy sigh. "Great. She's sick. Now I'm gonna get sick, and I've got to drive the friggin' Jag myself with..." He glared down at his left hand as headed upstairs to get ready to go home.  
  
He hit the front door of the house with a scowl on his face. Dumped his briefcase and raincoat on the floor by the foyer. "Windsor?" He shouted out. There was no answer. He checked the kitchen and living room then headed upstairs. "Windsor!" He entered the bedroom and saw the bathroom door ajar. He strode across the room and pushed it fully open.  
  
She was on her knees beside the toilet, looking decidedly green.  
  
"Aw, shit, Erin." He ran a washcloth under the cold tap and handed it to her. She moved to accept it, then lurched over the bowl, vomiting helplessly. Robert dropped to the floor next to her, pressing the compress to her forehead. "Want Compazine?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"So, you're just going to keep this up until you pass out?"  
  
She shot him the finger, and he laughed, genuinely softening. "Fever?" He asked.  
  
"No." Her face was ashen, her eyes bruised and hollow. Scared, she looked scared.  
  
"Well, come on, let's get you into bed," he moved to help her up but she pulled away.  
  
"Leave me here," she said quietly.  
  
"You know, I can get you a trashcan for the bedside."  
  
"I don't need to go to bed!" Erin snapped.  
  
"Well, if you hover on the floor by the toilet all night, you're only going to get sicker.." He reasoned in his most maddeningly sensible voice.  
  
"I'm not sick!" Erin shouted.  
  
Robert gestured to the toilet. "Auditioning for 'The Exorcist 2003'?" He was joking, but his stomach suddenly lurched when he realized Erin was more than irritable, more than scared. She was downright terrified. "Then what the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
Time stood still for a long beat as she looked at him with those fearful eyes.  
  
"Robert..I'm pregnant..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She had gotten used to living with a headache.  
  
It was like astigmatism...or like hearing loss. You wake up in the morning and reach for your glasses, or your hearing aid. She awoke and reached for the ibuprofen bottle that had taken up permanent residence on her nightstand.  
  
It wasn't that much of a problem, really. Just a low droning pain that dug it's way to the base of her neck. Manageable. Of course, it could be enticed. Direct sunlight, for instance, would bring it zinging up behind her eyes, pricking at her corneas. Or the odd sound - the loud and unexpected crash of a Mayo stand during a busy trauma, the muted yelp if Robert bumped his arm the wrong way, Weaver saying just about anything..all could bring the searing agony to whisper in her ear like a long denied lover begging for attention. And then she would find herself racing for the bathroom, afraid the insolence of her brain would incite her stomach to revolt as well. She won the battle most of the time, and convinced John to write her a scrip for Imitrex.  
  
It was just part of her life now. A new element to factor into the equation, a new edge to work around.  
  
Because, God knew, there weren't enough of those lately.  
  
The power struggle had been, all things considered, mercifully brief.  
  
A scuffle with Elizabeth in the OR. Heated words exchanged with a surgical resident. A dead patient. A vengeful politician. And an opportunistic opponent.  
  
The demise of a career, summed up in those brief statements. God, she couldn't think about it.  
  
He'd left the hospital without a word to her. She found out about her husband's demotion from a very gently sympathetic Yosh. So much emotion at once - rage, sadness, resignation...relief? A horrible thing to admit. But at least now there was a catalyst to move life along. They had been drifting in a rut of "wait and see" for so long. At least now he'd be inspired to fight, or inspired to find some new focus. She hoped.  
  
She had walked out on her shift, daring Weaver to fire her. She didn't, of course - rather seemed relieved to see her go. He'd taken the car. She caught the El. Made her way home, inside. He was staring into an empty fireplace, shirt untucked, tie askew, the dogs neglected protectively at his feet. She had wanted to talk, but his expression sucked all the air from her and left her speechless. She tended to the fire. Poured a glass of wine that would sit, untouched, by his side. Took her place on the opposite end of the couch. And waited.  
  
The storm raged inside him for hours as he sat, unmoving and stoic. Erin expected to feel waves of rage, of anger, of something coming from his body, but there was nothing. She pressed her fingers to her temples as her new little demon yawned and stretched within her skull. She would be able to manage a few minutes more before having to track down something to take the edge off. And it would have to be something good, because she sensed his explosion, when it finally came, would be the wrath of God come to earth.  
  
And then he reached for her.  
  
She had thought the heat at the back of her neck was coming from the inside. And then she felt his weight shift the cushion next to her and realized it was his hand. She opened her eyes, only to close them again as his mouth claimed hers in a soft yet longing caress. His other hand at her waist, and she trailed her fingers up the sinewy line of muscle. She'd long since memorized the scar with her fingertips; she traced it gently once again beneath the fabric of his shirt. Gentle pressure from her hand at his elbow, and his hand slid around to the small of her back, and his shoulders made contact with hers. The kiss ended, his eyes burned into hers, emotions swirling in the deep brown, too many to identify.  
  
"Robert.."  
  
He shook his head, and she knew. This was all he could give. There would be no raging tirade, no discussion, no words at all. He would not, could not... and he was who he was, so it had to be so.  
  
She wrapped her arms around him and brought her lips back to his.  
  
Slow and sweet. Fingers fumbling with offending buttons, the whisper of linen passing shoulder and knee. Blood racing beneath warm layers of skin pressed close together. The fine dusting of hair tickling her fingertips as she traced his heart. Flesh rising in response to his delicate touch. Lips meshing, tongues entwining, bodies seeking...  
  
Tender culmination that turned explosive as he moved above her, retreating into sensation.  
  
And she found the only thing that made her headache disappear entirely. .  
  
  
  
Too bad they couldn't bottle it.  
  
But it was all right. She was learning to live with the headache.  
  
Then again, she should have known something was going on the day she ended up in Gallant's arms.  
  
  
  
They leaned over the gurney as he orated: "Mr. Distel is a sixty-two year old male who checked in complaining of lower right quadrant pain and fever. Temp 101.9, pulse is tachy at 140. Ruled out appendicitis, so I'm thinking kidney stone."  
  
Erin checked the patient's abdomen, nodding. "Good work Gallant. Get a portable ultrasound and page surgery for a consult. I'm sure Mr. Distel doesn't want to pass this on his own unless he absolutely has to."  
  
"No shit, doc...this is killing me." The man in the bed grumbled. Erin smiled and turned, Gallant on her heels. "If they don't take him up, make sure you admit.."  
  
  
  
"Dr. Romano? Dr. Romano!" Gallant's voice, insistent.  
  
Robert, answer the damn kid!  
  
"Dr. Romano!" Strong hands shaking her shoulders. She opened her eyes, and his face melted into relief. "There you are."  
  
"Gallant, do me a favor - stick with Dr. Windsor, okay?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was she looking straight ahead at the ceiling? Better yet, what was she doing lying in his lap? She struggled to sit up. "What the hell -"  
  
"You fainted," Gallant tried to get her to sit still, but she forced him to let her up. "Are you all right?"  
  
I have no idea. Aloud: "Sure, I'm fine. I just skipped breakfast. And then I skipped lunch, so-" She took a tentative step, then another. Gallant rose and followed, trying to lead her to a gurney.  
  
"We should get a BP, check your pulse..."  
  
Erin rolled her eyes (oww!) and laughed a little. "Gallant, I had a head rush. Not a big deal. I'm fine."  
  
His eyes were soft with doubt, but Erin knew she could count on his background and training to kick in and prevent him from arguing with her. It was a quality she had been trying hard to beat out of him, but if it could work in her favor this time, so be it. Finally, his shoulders dropped a bit. "Well, if you're sure, ma'am..."  
  
"I'm fine, and we really need to work on that ma'am stuff. I am far too young to be addressed as such." She grinned. "And definitely drop the 'Dr. Romano' - one of them is more than enough."  
  
"Okay, Dr. Windsor." He smiled before reluctantly moving off to find an ultrasound, casting furtive glances back over his shoulder. She waved him on, then walked towards the ladies room. She splashed cold water on her face, ran her fingers through her hair. "There. Get a little sugar rush going, you'll be fine..." She headed for the lounge, for her purse, for her meds..the headache was back.  
  
Erin knew something was going on when the seventeenth came, but her period did not.  
  
Shit.  
  
Maybe you're just late. It's happened before. We've never once discussed it...I don't think he even wants to be a father. You're probably just late. Give it a day or two.. it'll be along..  
  
She gave it a week. A long, agonized, torturous week. Passing the tests in the bins that lined the halls at work, watching the date change on the calendar. It didn't come along.  
  
She had almost convinced herself that she was going to be one of those women who just missed a month, for no reason, without explanation. And then, one night in bed, he reached for her, touched her. And it hurt. She didn't let it show - the pain, or the panic it created. He made love to her, and she held him close, longing to tell him, terrified beyond reason.  
  
Human denial knows no bounds.  
  
By the next morning, she had once again convinced herself it was all stress, and her imagination working overtime. She went to the hospital and got a groove going, treating and streeting, and actually felt normal. When the vomiting hit, her fevered brain listed off every cold and flu patient she'd seen in the last three days. Susan found her, huddled in the bathroom, and told her to go home. Erin relented. No one saw her pass the supply shelf. No one would miss the white, unassuming box.  
  
Who knew such a small symbol could make one feel so ill?  
  
She made it to the toilet before throwing up. Not tough, since she didn't have far to go. She rested her forehead against the cool porcelain (Thank God for maid service), her mind racing faster than her stomach churning. What will he say? What will he do? He's going to kill me.. Do I have to tell him? Of course you have to tell him! What the hell am I going to do?  
  
The door swung open. Robert, looking at her with bemused sympathy. Chiding her, teasing her. Thinking it was the flu.  
  
The flu, sure, uh-huh. Let him think that, it'll buy you some time. His arms around her, trying to move her into the bedroom. His voice, that condescending, I'm-so-smart-now-just-sit-back-and-let-me-be-the-doctor tone. Another wave of nausea, and the words, pushed out against her will...  
  
"Robert...I'm pregnant..." 


	21. Reaction

Oh you wonderful audience, you!  
  
Your feedback has been so awesomely appreciated. It's so nice to know you've stuck it out with me here. And your reactions to the last chapter were totally unexpected. I thought you'd want me drawn and quartered for even considering taking our Sultan of Snark down such a road.  
  
So fear not, gentle reader, I've heard your plea. It would be a pleasure to share a bit more. Consider me booked for an extended engagement.  
  
  
  
He couldn't breathe. Her words, pushed from her lips so reluctantly, had chased all the air from the room. Or was it the absolute distress in those clouded green eyes? Or the fact that her condition was progressed at least to the point of physically wracking her body?  
  
Pregnant?  
  
No, she can't be pregnant. We never said we were trying to have a baby.  
  
A baby?  
  
No. We never even mentioned kids, let alone discussed actually conceiving one.  
  
She can't be.  
  
We never said we would, so obviously, we couldn't have. Therefore, she isn't...  
  
Pregnant?  
  
He had to sit down.  
  
He crossed the room to the sink. Leaned his weight heavily against the marble surface. His hand knocked something into the sink with a rattle of plastic. He picked it up. Little pink plus sign. He stared.  
  
Still on the floor, Erin pulled her knees up under her chin, watching him. He was stunned, robotic. His face had been stripped away and she could see the thought process it hid. The vain struggle to outreason a force that could not be reasoned with. A mirror of her own denial, her own desperate need to refute that things were changing too fast. She watched him lean against the counter, pick up the small plastic stick she had used to read her future. A million words danced across the back of her throat - rationalizations, reassurances - all too elusive for her to vocalize. So she waited.  
  
Would there be reserves of fury? "Goddamit, Windsor, how could you let this happen?" "Couldn't you have been more careful?" "What the hell do we do now?"  
  
Would there be understanding compassion? "We'll figure something out." "We're in this together." "Don't worry."  
  
He pushed his weight away from the sink. Walked over to the wall next to her, leaned, slid down. His left shoulder brushed her right, he pulled his knees up in the same fashion as hers, propping his arms on them. He still held the test stick loosely in his hands, still stared at it intently.  
  
They sat that way for the better part of an hour, neither speaking, both barely breathing. Neither made any move to touch the other. Erin's stomach hitched once or twice, nothing she couldn't control. If Robert noticed, he gave no sign. And just when she thought she'd go out of her mind, he let go of the wand, letting it fall to the floor. He moved towards her, pushing her knees, straightening her legs on the floor in front of her. He pressed his right hand against her stomach...  
  
And lowered his head to her lap.  
  
  
  
Tears leapt to her eyes and fell on his face as he pushed up her shirt, tenderly kissed her navel. She bent over him, hugging his head awkwardly, giving in to the sobs that had been building inside her for nearly two weeks. Robert wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his face in the soft flesh before him, visualizing the tiny life on the other side of her skin. He lay in her embrace until he couldn't breathe, and then gently pulled away from her. He rose to his feet, offered her his hand. She slipped her fingers into his and stood on shaking legs. He took the washcloth from her hand and wiped her tear-stained face. He brushed back her tousled hair, caressed her cheek, and guided her mouth to his. Her arms slipped weakly around him as he parted her lips with his tongue. He brought his hips into contact with hers, once again marveling at the activity taking place inside her. She moved tenderly against him, encouraging his desire, which he was sure she could feel growing, and in more ways than one.  
  
Somehow they made it to the bed.  
  
  
  
Of all the reactions he could have given her, this was the one she least expected, the one she hadn't dared to hope for. Even as he bared her tummy and brushed it with his lips, her mind insisted on screaming out the fact the he had said absolutely nothing - that she should not draw too much reassurance from his actions. But now he was holding her in his arms, he was kissing her...  
  
He was smiling at her.  
  
A small smile, true. A smile that, if you didn't know Romano, could be mistaken as something else. But she had seen it enough to recognize its nuance, and it sent a rush of emotion through her - swirling relief, dazzling reassurance, blind happiness..  
  
He moved against her, and another was added to the mix..desire.  
  
She sank back into the inviting embrace of the mattress, his mouth working against hers tenderly. She pulled his tie away in a whisper of silk, slipped a button free from its hole, then another. He exhaled against her cheek as her hands parted fabric, found skin, plucked softly at hair. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and felt the jut of one hip rub against his bare torso. His mouth left hers and he slid down her body. He caught the hem of her shirt and pushed it up, baring luminous, toned skin. He pulled the material over her head, then returned his attention to her stomach. Her flesh twitched a bit, pulled away from the feather light touch of his lips as he kissed her. He brushed his fingertips over the rise just below her navel and she shivered. He lifted his face, found her gaze, and she was sinking into the inviting, luxurious pools of deep brown.  
  
His weight covered her once more, warm and welcome, and he was pulling at her clothing and somehow it was whisked away... and his hands were in her hair and his mouth against her ear ...and she was clutching at his shoulders and he moved above her, within her.. his chest pressed against hers, and his pulse racing in time with the throbbing of her own..his hands beneath her back pressing her closer and closer until there was no he, no she, no two, only one...one body..one heart..one love..  
  
  
  
After, they lay together in the dark. His arms around her waist, his head rested on her stomach. Her breathing had slowed and her skin had cooled, but an ember still burned between them. It changed the air, electrified it, and she was nervous, waiting for him to speak.  
  
Eventually, he did.  
  
"How far along, do you think?"  
  
She calculated silently in her mind. "Probably around seven and a half, maybe eight weeks."  
  
He was silent for a moment. Then she felt his lips curl slightly against her skin. "So, probably that one night after the storm."  
  
She smiled as well, remembering. "Maybe. Or that one morning before M & M."  
  
"No symptoms until the vomiting this afternoon?"  
  
A loaded question if she'd ever heard one. "I guess, in hindsight, there were a few."  
  
"Like skipping your period? Which was due when, by the way?"  
  
She was frightened, annoyed. Wondering if he was spoiling for a confrontation. "Are we really going to discuss the technicalities here?"  
  
He glanced up at her. "I was just wondering how long it took you to tell me. And what that might mean."  
  
She sighed raggedly. "I didn't know for sure until tonight. You saw the test yourself. I didn't see any point in bringing it up until I was absolutely certain."  
  
Another few beats of silence. Then, his voice, thick with meaning.  
  
"I'm not really concerned with being politically correct."  
  
No! Not Robert Romano!  
  
But all humor aside, she couldn't fathom how his saying such was a good thing. Her chest tightened and she gave a mighty effort to keep the tension from her voice. "Uh-huh."  
  
"I say what I think, what I feel." A sigh. "What I think is right."  
  
Erin swallowed hard. "Mmm-hmm."  
  
"I'm not going to change that now."  
  
"Okay." Here it comes. She braced herself.  
  
He lifted his head, looked into her eyes. "Please have it."  
  
She didn't know what to say.  
  
"I know you're the woman. I know it's your body, your decision. I know I shouldn't tell you what to do."  
  
More tears. Note to self - Visine. "But Robert," she breathed softly, "it's your baby, too."  
  
The word hung between them. Erin realized it was the first time it had been spoken at all.  
  
His face was a little more serene, his voice had a touch more confidence.  
  
"Please have it." 


	22. Yes, Sir, That's My Baby

He came awake slowly, blinking his eyes in the growing light. Grey sunlight shining refracted through the raindrops on the window. He was alone in the bed. Glanced at the clock - 5:48. She was awake before the alarm. He swung his legs off the bed, arched, stretched. Crossed the room and pushed open the bathroom door. Smiled piteously at her huddled form. "If you're going to be hugging that thing more than me, I may start to develop a complex."  
  
Erin dragged her hollow gaze from the bright porcelain to his face. "I'll remember that next time," she hissed quietly. "Your dry cleaning bill will skyrocket." He chuckled a bit, and wet a washcloth at the sink. He tossed it to her, and she pressed it to her mouth. "This is so gross."  
  
She rose to her feet, adjusted her nightshirt and flushed the toilet, then made her way to the sink. He handed her a toothbrush, and she looked at him gratefully. He triggered the water for the shower, then returned his eyes to her. "So, when do you think you're going to start telling people?"  
  
She sniffed brief laughter, answering through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hey, up until ten hours ago I wasn't even sure when I was going to tell you." She spit, grimaced, and wiped her mouth once more. "Don't you think we should give ourselves some time to adjust to the idea?"  
  
He shrugged slightly. "If you can be very, very careful. That hellhole you work in is a deathtrap as it is."  
  
"I'll be very careful," she smiled, kissing him softly. "I promise, Daddy."  
  
A shiver ran down his spine, and he snaked an arm around her waist. "Better be careful. Like you said, I'm not completely adjusted to this whole idea, and a man could be affected by a statement like that in more than one way." Erin raised an eyebrow at him, indicating she wasn't too concerned with misinterpretation. She casually unbuttoned her nightshirt and let it fall to the floor, exposing every inch of her form to his appreciative eye. She pulled open the door to the shower and slipped one leg inside, casting a coy little glance over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" She asked in a husky voice.  
  
"Well, not yet," he returned wickedly, "but if the hot water holds out, who knows?"  
  
  
  
  
  
"What are you doing here today? I thought sure you'd be praying to the Porcelain God at least a day or two more."  
  
Susan's voice made Erin smile despite the rolling queasiness in her stomach. "Eh. I feel lousy, but I'd feel even lousier if all I had to do was lie in bed and think about it." She said lamely. "But if you would take the arm lac in curtain three, I'd really appreciate it." She handed the chart over to Susan. "Chef in a seafood restaurant sliced his arm open with a butcher knife. Needs tetanus, a few sub q's and sutures. And he reeks of fish." Her stomach groaned at the thought. "Which I just cannot handle today."  
  
"Wow...thanks. Smelly fish guy, I'm so excited." Erin smiled at the woman's back as she walked away. She returned to the board to sign out her previous patient, then decided to head to the lounge. A glass of juice, some saltine crackers, and she thought she just might make it through the rest of her shift. She was just getting ready to flop down onto the couch when her pager sounded from her hip.  
  
Page to the suture room? 911? What?!  
  
Still carrying the crackers in one hand, she hurried down the hall. The door was closed and the blinds were drawn, so it wasn't until she pulled the door open that she was able to even guess at what might be going on.  
  
Robert stood next to the gurney, his arms folded lightly over his chest. "Shut the door." His voice was soft but full of command. "Lock it." Erin obeyed, and was preparing to make some wisecrack about amour in the workplace. But then he stepped aside and she saw the SonoSite set up behind him. Her heart fluttered a little, and he grinned. He gestured wordlessly to the gurney and she nodded. She unbuttoned and unzipped the waistband of her pants and pushed them low on her hips, then slid onto the mattress. Robert squirted some lubricant on her stomach and she gasped. "Cold!" He switched on the machine...  
  
And suddenly looked and felt quite awkward. "You know, I can't remember the last time I did one of these for my own purposes..."  
  
Erin smiled, amused, and took the hand that held the scan in hers. She guided him over her lower abdomen, watching grainy black and white entwine and dance across the screen. It took a minute or two....  
  
"There.." His voice was hushed.  
  
And there it was. A tiny, kidney shaped shadow, outlined in static white. Erin's breath caught in her throat. A small flutter of butterfly wings in the center, and a rapid whooshing sound filled her ears. And just as all her clinical ability left her, Robert seemed to rediscover his. "Pulse around 180 beats a minute. Cord looks good, amount of amniotic fluid looks good." He shifted the wand to better view the top of the head. "Looks like about eight weeks.." He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek. Her hand squeezed his wrist, and he leaned over to lightly brush his lips over her forehead. They remained perfectly still for a moment, gazing at the image on the screen, listening to the heartbeat like hummingbird wings. Finally, Robert reached over and switched off the screen, and offered Erin a cloth. She wiped her stomach clean and re-fastened the waist of her pants. Then she lifted her eyes to his.  
  
"October."  
  
  
  
  
  
She barely made it to the twelve-week mark without anyone finding out. The nausea was pervasive and unbearable, and not so easy to hide. The constant ducking in and out of the bathroom had everyone suspicious. She ran the gamut of excuses over and over.flu, bad food from wherever she'd eaten last, allergies...she swore Gallant was starting to suspect she was bulimic.  
  
And then, one afternoon, she and Kerry had to cover a particularly grueling gunshot trauma that soaked them in blood from head to toe. They headed to the locker room to change into scrubs, and Kerry's breath caught a bit as Erin lifted her shirt. The hollow of the young woman's stomach wasn't hollow anymore.  
  
"My God, Erin! Are you pregnant?"  
  
Erin yanked the top down reflexively, flushing. Weaver leaned heavily on her crutch. "Oh, you are! Oh, my God! How far along?" Her words were gentle, but her expression was one Erin could not quite understand. Envy? Longing? Sadness? Strange...  
  
Erin sighed. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "I finished my first trimester yesterday." She ran a hand absently over her navel. "I would have said something sooner, but you know the old suspicions - I didn't want to jinx anything." Kerry nodded slowly, and Erin could have sworn she saw tears shimmering behind her glasses. "Kerry? Are you all right?"  
  
Weaver nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm fine. Uh, congratulations. Make sure you discuss this with Susan as soon as possible. We'll want to make sure to keep you away from anything too dangerous or contagious, and you'll want to make sure you get all the paperwork for insurance and maternity leave squared away. Also, are you using an OB here at the hospital? Because if you've gone somewhere else, we can make sure and extend privileges to whomever you're seeing, if that's more convenient for you. And it might be, especially if you were to go into labor while working...."  
  
Erin was not quite prepared for the torrent of babbling she was facing, and found herself simply nodding, wide-eyed. "Uh, thanks, Kerry."  
  
"Sure. Sure. As long as you're taken care of.."  
  
The door swung open suddenly, and a very triumphant looking Romano came striding through the door, brandishing a bound folder proudly in one hand. Erin's eyes lit up. "You got it."  
  
He nodded, slapping the folder down on the table. "Yes. County General is now the front-runner in the arena of Pancreatic Transplant and Regeneration Research. New laboratory facilities, expanded budget for consumables.all told, 7.25 million dollars over a three year period, all thanks to yours truly." He eyed Weaver condescendingly. "I do believe that is the largest sum of money every granted to this dive in a single sitting."  
  
Weaver nodded, still looking numb, shell-shocked. "Very nice work, Robert."  
  
Erin would have expected some biting sarcasm in response to Weaver's bland approval, but he only strode across the room, wrapping one arm around her waist and laying one hand on her stomach. "Yes, I'm just proliferating all over the place lately." He glanced up. "She has told you she's in a family way, hasn't she?"  
  
"We were just discussing that. Congratulations again." She moved towards the exit, looking fatigued. "Make sure you leave a copy of that," she gestured to the folder on the table, "in my box."  
  
"Already done -" Robert called, mostly to the closing door. Then he turned his attention back to Erin. He rubbed her stomach gently. "Lunch still in there, or should I get the hell out of the way?" She poked him in the ribs. "Hey, it isn't my fault that kissing you has become a game of Russian roulette these days."  
  
"Oh, it isn't?" She cocked an eyebrow as he moved in closer.  
  
"Yeah, yeah..shut up." He covered her mouth with his, still gently rubbing her stomach. She slid her hand up around his neck as the door swung open. Elizabeth entered, stopping short as she caught sight of them - his lips working against hers, her body melting against his...and his hand protectively covering her abdomen. She knew at once what it meant, and her breath left her in a sharp gasp.  
  
"My God - you're having a baby?"  
  
Erin and Robert parted quickly, as if caught. "Lizzie!" He enthused. "Heard the joyful news? Finally County's gossip mill churns out a winner, eh?" He nuzzled Erin's cheek affectionately. "Yes, it's true. I knocked her up. Never had any doubt the boys could swim, but even I was surprised by their speed and precision. I guess Romano genetics just refuse to be denied." He rubbed her stomach once more, nosed her hair aside to kiss her neck, and in a flash, was gone. Elizabeth still stood rooted to the same spot. Erin shifted her scrub top over her shoulders and smoothed it down. When she caught sight of Dr. Corday's thunderstruck expression, she laughed a little. "Elizabeth? You okay?"  
  
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. "Uh, yes. Yes, fine. Just reeling at the notion of Robert Romano having a child is all."  
  
"Please," Erin winced. "No cracks about the antichrist, or 'Rosemary's Baby'. The thing is in my body, after all."  
  
"No, no." Elizabeth still looked stunned. "That's not what I meant. It's just that, in all the time I've known him, everything he's said..it just left me with the impression that he didn't want children."  
  
Erin wasn't quite sure how to respond. Corday's tone left her feeling a bit defensive, and she didn't like it. The silence hung between them until Elizabeth came out of her trance and saw Erin's face. "He looks quite happy, though," she offered at once. "I guess he's decided being a father agrees with him after all." Suddenly uncomfortable, she flushed and offered a weak smile. "Congratulations Erin, really. Please - don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything I can do for you. Anything at all." She turned on her heel and left the room, and Erin sank into a chair.  
  
"Sorry, Elizabeth." She spoke softly to the empty room.  
  
"You had your shot..."  
  
  
  
  
  
For once, April wasn't the cruelest month.  
  
With her first trimester over, the nausea finally began to subside. And as word of her pregnancy spread, life took on an air of optimism, of expectation. Long awaited and well deserved.  
  
The rush of hormones took her completely by surprise. It was as if the nausea of the first few months had caused her to sick up every ounce of self-control she'd had in regards to Robert. Quite simply, she couldn't keep her hands off him. At home, she was never more than a foot or so away from him. And at work....  
  
He'd discovered her weakness quite easily.  
  
It began innocently enough. A multi-victim trauma. Lydia's page for a surgical consult. He breezed into the room with his usual bombastic air as she was prepping for a central line. He leaned over her to check the patient -  
  
....the taut muscle of his shoulder brushing her arm, the smell of his skin, the line of his jaw, the rumble of his voice in his chest, the flexing of ligament and tendon under the flesh of his forearm....  
  
and she went completely weak in the knees. His arm, lightning quick, catching her weight, holding it against him. His eyes, concern tempered by professional restraint. Her muttered, "I'm okay." The sense of utter loss when he let her go. She finished the procedure as quick as she could and turned the patient over to Luka, stumbling out of the trauma room. She made her way blindly to the lounge, gasping for breath, unable to believe what was happening, how powerful the urge. Cold water, her mind intoned. Drink it, splash your face with it - hell, dump it down the front of your shirt if you have to.  
  
She should have known he would follow her.  
  
He burst into the lounge. "Are you all right? Are you dizzy? Cramping?" She shook her head. "Then what the hell was that back there?"  
  
A dozen explanations sprang into her head, but before she could catalogue them and select one, she had crossed the room and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled his head down to hers and captured his lips with her own. "Erin -" he protested against her mouth. She seized the opportunity and slipped her tongue in against his, feeling a surge of pure desire explode through her stomach. His hands caught her shoulders and he tried to push her away, but she clutched his neck with her fingers, refusing to let go. He responded to her kiss briefly, hoping to appease her, but it only enticed her, leaving her needing him more than before. "Windsor - " he muttered again, and she finally relented.  
  
"What?!"  
  
His mouth curled in a grin at her grunt of frustration.  
  
"Shouldn't we at least lock the doors?"  
  
Hurried footsteps, the metallic click of rods sliding home, and they collapsed on the worn leather sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Lips meeting and parting, tongues tasting, fingers fighting offensive clothing, and finally, desperate connection. His mouth against her ear: "I always knew I'd get you on this couch eventually."  
  
She glanced up at him, eyes full of fire. "Call Weaver in here, and you're a dead man."  
  
His sexy little chuckle, and then his face was buried in her neck, his fingers in her hair, and he was moving over her, within her, and she was lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of love and lust, heat and desire, need and satisfaction.  
  
  
  
  
  
. 


	23. More Real Every Day

May.  
  
Erin greeted spring fever with enthusiasm. She was just starting to show, the tiniest bit, only apparent to those who knew her. The morning sickness had vanished, her energy was in full swing, and she and Robert were getting quite good at riding the waves of her hormones with perfect rhythm. His research was gaining him quite a bit of notice, and he ate up the attention with a spoon. Some people were disheartened to find good old Rocket back in firing form, but Erin was thrilled by it. She didn't even mind the occasional caustic inquiry.  
  
"How can you stay married to a man who can be such a bastard?"  
  
The answer came on May eleventh.  
  
She hated leaving him in bed. The circle of warmth their bodies created was her favorite delicacy, and she could gorge for hours and never be satisfied. But she had promised Susan a Sunday off, and she dragged herself to the shower.  
  
County was blessedly quiet. Even Elizabeth got bored up in surgery and came down to pass the time. They were chatting quietly when a delivery van pulled up outside in the ambulance bay. The driver hopped out and wrestled a huge bouquet of roses and lilies from the back. He strode to the admit desk and placed them on the counter to a chorus of whistles. "Is there an Erin Romano here?" Erin smiled, a bit confused. "That's me." She signed the clipboard he held out, and fumbled through the fragrant buds, looking for a card.  
  
"It's not your birthday." Carter mused. "Not her anniversary, either." Lydia added. "They are from Robert, right?" Elizabeth asked as she found the small envelope. She pulled the card free, and her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. "What does it say?"  
  
Erin turned the card so they could see the three words written there:  
  
"Happy Mother's Day."  
  
  
  
The flowers would have been enough.  
  
But at noon, a young woman approached the desk, carrying boxes of wonderful, steaming fragrance. "Yeah, I'm looking for Erin Romano. I have a delivery from Spiaggia."  
  
Erin's brow furrowed as she accepted the boxes. "You guys don't deliver."  
  
"We do when we get paid this well. Enjoy!"  
  
There was a note taped to the top of one of the boxes. "Don't share. You're eating for two."  
  
  
  
That would have been more than enough.  
  
At three o'clock, another delivery. A plain white box wrapped in a red ribbon. Innocuous enough. Erin opened it at the desk, pushed aside the tissue paper, and gasped a bit in embarrassment. She tried to slam the lid down, but Randi, quick as a wink, snatched the red satin and lace from inside. A slip of perfumed paper fluttered to the counter. Malik grabbed it as Erin covered her face. "Ooooh, girl. 'For practice. In case we decide we want another one someday'."  
  
A chorus of whistles, catcalls, "Somebody's getting laid tonight!" and she was unable to resist.  
  
"Oh, honey, I get laid every night."  
  
The chorus erupted into a roar, and Erin grabbed the teddy away from Randi, stuffing it unceremoniously back into the box.  
  
  
  
Six o'clock finally arrived, and he swooped in through the ambulance bay doors. She fairly leapt out of her skin and rushed into his arms. "You are the sweetest man..."  
  
"And you are the sexiest mother-to-be I've ever seen," he growled, closing his lips over hers. "Come on, let's get out of here. We've got reservations at seven, and I am dying to see you in that, ahem, present." He hugged her close, and suddenly, Erin gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. She grabbed Robert's hand and pressed it to her stomach. He stood, blank, for a moment. Then the charge in her eyes ignited in his own. "Oh, my God - was that...?" She nodded frantically, and he gazed down at his hand in wonder. "I'll be damned."  
  
Thirty feet away, leaning in the doorway of the suture room, Elizabeth stood in quiet observation. She watched their shared wonder and excitement, watched Robert pull Erin into his embrace, saw their lips find each other like pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. And she sighed.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was just her luck.  
  
The summer was shaping to be one of the hottest on record. And just when her stomach was really beginning to swell. Robert didn't seem to mind, especially since she'd taken to wearing nothing more than her swimsuit around the house. Add to that her raging hormones...  
  
Yes, it was shaping up to be a long, hot summer indeed.  
  
  
  
They scheduled Erin's ultrasound for the middle of July.  
  
They sat, side by side in the quiet pink office, watching the screen with enraptured eyes. Four pumping chambers, three visible cord vessels, a stomach, two kidneys. Sucking its thumb. "Do you want to know the sex?"  
  
Simultaneous. Robert: "Yes." Erin: "No." They exchanged looks.  
  
"Yes." "No." "Yes." "No!" "Yes!" "NO!"  
  
The radiology tech laughed. "Okay, folks, I need a decision here."  
  
"No," Erin insisted. "We don't want to know."  
  
"What's this 'we', paleface?" He scowled at her.  
  
Erin fixed the tech with a withering look. "Under no circumstances is that man to know the sex of that baby. In fact, I don't even want you to know."  
  
"Well, I should note it for the file."  
  
"I'm a doctor. Tell me why."  
  
"Well, because....well, I guess - all right. No sex. Gotcha."  
  
Erin grinned in triumph. Robert rolled his eyes before leaning in for a kiss. "You're lucky I find this whole hormone-crazed-control-freak-bitch thing sexy." Erin snickered against his mouth.  
  
"You're lucky this hormone-crazed-control-freak-bitch hasn't knocked you on your scrawny ass."  
  
"Scrawny? I am not scrawny." Robert smirked.  
  
Erin gestured to her well-pronounced middle. "Compared to me? Scrawny."  
  
"Oh, sure, when it's two on one you're the big tough guy. Then again, how much damage can a skinny little shit like you inflict with a basketball?"  
  
Erin grinned wickedly. "Take me home and I'll be happy to show you."  
  
  
  
He came home one afternoon to find her napping restlessly on the couch. Gretel was draped across her lap, her head shifting every once in a while as the baby kicked beneath her. Robert smiled before gently shooing the animal away. He sat down on the couch, lifting Erin's legs into his lap. He massaged her ankles gently, carefully, occasionally reaching up to rub a bump that might be an elbow or a foot. She blinked open her eyes and groaned her approval at his touch. "For a minute there I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven." She struggled to sit up. "Then I realized Heaven wouldn't be this friggin' hot." She dipped her fingers into the glass on the end table beside her and pulled out a handful of ice cubes. She trailed them over her collarbone and throat, grinning at her suddenly dry- mouthed husband. "Looks like you're heating up a bit yourself." He shifted on the sofa, moving closer to her. He held out his hand.  
  
"Why don't you let me do that?"  
  
Her fingers trembled slightly as she placed the ice on his open palm. He used his empty hand to pull her tank top over her head, then he lay the other flat against her throat. Erin gasped, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back on her neck. His touch moved lower, over her collarbone, down into her cleavage. He bent his head and kissed the hollow of her throat as his hand moved left, bringing soft flesh to a firm, excited peak. The melting ice had left a trail of water droplets behind; he traced it with the tip of his tongue as Erin's hand fluttered to the back of his neck. His head moved lower and lower, and he kissed her belly warmly. "Think little one would mind some knocking at the door?"  
  
Erin giggled. "The fact that that does not totally turn me off really worries me.."  
  
They lay in each other's arms after, Robert's head resting above her now protruding navel. Pressure from beneath her skin. "Getting stronger every day."  
  
"No kidding," Erin groaned. "Ever had your ass kicked from the inside out?"  
  
Robert laughed heartily, watching her fingers rub a point below the left side of her ribcage. "Still likes that one spot, huh?" He reached up and brushed her fingers away with his own, massaging gently, feeling an alien lump move under his touch.  
  
"Yes. Pushing on it constantly, and it's starting to hurt."  
  
"So," he raised his eyes to hers. "Sorry yet?"  
  
She smiled.  
  
"Nowhere near." 


	24. Special Delivery

Her back was killing her.  
  
She lay in the nest of pillows she created every night to cushion and support the muscles of her aching body, trying to sleep. She glanced at the clock. 4:27. She'd slept less than two hours. This was getting ridiculous - and the thought of two more weeks was enough to drive her mad.  
  
Robert shifted next to her in his sleep, the arm thrown protectively across her swollen stomach tightening briefly, moving higher on her skin. Creating a new warm spot. A moment later, an ?arm? ?leg? from inside shifted as well, following the heat. Erin smiled. She was tempted to wake him, to indulge in some blissful distraction. But her inner voice chided her, telling her to let him rest. She had, after all, kept him up into the wee hours the night before. And the night before that. She giggled a little to herself. After this pregnancy, it was amazing the man had any fluid left in his body. She wiggled out from under his grasp and rose awkwardly to her feet. She shuffled into the bathroom for what seemed like the fifteenth time since retiring, pressing her hands to the base of her spine. A thump beneath her diaphragm, and she rubbed her belly gently. "I get it, I get it. I'm going."  
  
Gretel and Sophie followed her down the stairs, a spring in her step. "What are you going to do when these cravings are gone, girls?" She grinned, stroking the dog's heads. Rummaging through the fridge, she was rendered breathless by a sharp pain that began in her lower back and slowly slid seductive fingers over her abdomen. Braxton-Hicks. She doubled over a bit, forcing herself to breathe, rubbing the sudden flurry of activity below her navel. "I know," she muttered through clenched teeth. "This isn't fun for me either." A few agonized seconds, and blissful release. Sighing, she straightened, and reached for the milk and the left over fried chicken. She considered returning to bed, but realized he already thought she was crazy. So she grabbed the quilt from the back of the couch and wrapped herself in the crook of the arm. She fished the remote control from between the sofa cushions and began to scan the channels.  
  
She managed to doze off for a bit, but was roused by the rumble of footsteps on the stairs and Gretel's cheerful bark. Sophie, still curled around her feet, raised her head in greeting as well as Robert entered the room. "You okay?"  
  
Erin rubbed her eyes. "Mmm-hmm. Couldn't sleep."  
  
"What's new?" He grinned.  
  
"Cold fried chicken and grape jelly," she giggled at his grimace. "Wish I'd discovered this three months ago." Her breath suddenly hissed through her teeth as the muscles of her abdomen contracted once more. Robert raised an eyebrow. "Having lots of those?" He asked, keeping his voice deliberately mild. Erin glanced around at the clock. It was ten after seven.  
  
"Two or three. Nothing to write home about yet." Disappointment apparent in her voice.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"You know," he purred silkily, crossing his arms over his chest, "they say sexual endorphins help stimulate uterine contractions."  
  
"Oooh, baby," Erin struggled to her feet. "I just love it when you talk clinical." She stepped over the dogs and into his embrace, offering her mouth up to his. He kissed her deeply, running his hands over her stomach, marveling at the drumming kicks that greeted his touch. "Looks like he wants out of there."  
  
"Or she." Erin smiled coyly. The embraced as they made their way back up the stairs. He slid her robe of her shoulders, breathing in the sight of her, the scent of her skin.  
  
"Damn kid."  
  
Erin swatted his shoulder. "Hey!"  
  
"What? It's gonna show up here soon and then, bam! Hormone Highway is closed for construction. Three months.." He growled in his throat as he pulled her body against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly.  
  
"You'll survive," she grinned. "Besides, between diapers and baths and two am feedings, the time is going to fly. But just in case." She pushed him down onto the bed and moved carefully above him. "Let me give you something to remember.."  
  
  
  
When their bodies had cooled, she slept in his arms, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He lay his hand on her stomach, feeling the child move within, and the occasional tightening of the muscles beneath the skin. Reflexively, he began watching the clock. Twenty minutes, twenty- four, eighteen. he sighed heavily.  
  
The rose from the bed just after noon, and Erin slipped into a hot shower. She was massaging her lower back when another cramping pain pushed all the air from her lungs. She gasped her way through it, wiping the steam from the glass door to see the clock above the sink. 12:17. Remember 12:17. The pain slowly subsided, and she returned to washing her hair. She finished bathing, emerged, dressed. Brushed her teeth. 12:29. She glanced at her watch, adjusted it a bit, fastened it to her wrist. She moved into the closet and pulled out the bag she had packed a few days earlier. She had forgotten to include shampoo. She fumbled through its contents, smiling at the tiny outfits included for the little stranger she'd be bringing home. Laughed at the memory of Robert's grumbled, "If you weren't so damn stubborn we wouldn't have to by green and yellow." She zipped the bag closed and set it back inside the closet.  
  
She was descending the stairs when the next pain hit. 12:36.  
  
She made her way to the kitchen. He sat at the counter, reading the paper. She stroked his back, kissing him between his shoulder blades. She poured a glass of juice and reached for a banana. Read the Metro section over his shoulder, nibbling gently on his ear. He wound an arm absently around her waist. Another pain. It was 12:55.  
  
By three o'clock, they were coming every eleven minutes.  
  
He led her to the couch. "Lie down." She obeyed and he knelt next to her. Began easing her leggings down. Reaching down between her legs, and she grinned. "My strong, handsome doctor."  
  
"Four centimeters. Eighty percent effaced. Get in the car."  
  
"Robert, I'm not even halfway.."  
  
"Doctor's orders." His voice was gruff but there was an undeniable light of excitement in his eyes. "We're going. Now."  
  
By the time they reached the OB ward, the contractions were seven minutes apart, and she was writhing. "Babcock. Alexander. Anybody," she pleaded. "Drugs. NOW!"  
  
They admitted her, set her up in a private room, and started an IV. Babcock arrived, and she could have kissed him. The epidural began to flow, and she sighed in relief. Janie, a tiny blonde OB nurse, grinned as she examined her. "Nick of time, Dr. Romano." Robert looked at her absently. "Huh?"  
  
"I think she's talking to me," Erin groaned as the last edge of pain slipped away. She relaxed against the pillow. "Did you page Dr. Merritt?"  
  
"We did, but she's got a patient laboring in the OR. We may not see her until show time."  
  
A strange sensation spread through Erin's abdomen. "I think my water just broke."  
  
Janie lifted the sheet. "Sure did. It's clear. Now things should really start to move along." The medication made Erin's eyes heavy, and the young nurse smiled. "Nap if you can...you're going to need all your energy soon."  
  
Robert smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Only you could sleep at a time like this."  
  
She grinned weakly. "Yes, well, excuse me for not sharing your fortitude, Captain Ibuprofen, but I happen to like the good drugs."  
  
He kissed her tenderly. "Think you could survive a few minutes without me?"  
  
Her grin widened. "Let me guess..you want to go strut."  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
  
  
  
  
He stepped off of the elevator and strode through the ER as if on a cloud. He approached the admit desk and leaned on the counter. "Jerry, where's Dr. Lewis?"  
  
"She's doing a pelvic in exam one."  
  
"How ironic. Got a little of that action going on upstairs myself." He began, when Elizabeth emerged from curtain two and called his name.  
  
"Robert? What are you doing here?"  
  
He fixed her with a dazzling grin. "Had to drop the wife off upstairs."  
  
"Nothing's wrong?" Her expression tensed.  
  
"Not at all, Lizzie. But you ought to stop in later. Meet the new little Romano."  
  
"I thought she wasn't due for two more weeks," Elizabeth's tone was nearly impossible for him to critique.  
  
"Yes, well, we Romano's have always been quick, early, eager. And once we set our minds to something..look, point is, we're having a baby. Come by and say hello if you've got the time." He caught sight of Susan heading down the hall. "Gotta dash - I don't think my wife will be reporting for duty tomorrow, and I should probably tell the boss."  
  
Once, he might have been aware of her eyes clinging to him as he walked away. Now, he seemed barely aware that he'd spoken to her at all. Elizabeth sighed heavily, then headed down the hall towards the elevator.  
  
He was chatting animatedly with Susan and Haleh when his pager sounded from his hip. "The fruit of my loins beckons, ladies. If you'll excuse me.." He departed on a wave of their well wishes and took the stairs two at a time. When he arrived back at her bedside, it was clear the edge had worn off her epidural. Her brow was damp with sweat and she shifted uncomfortably against the mattress. He kissed her tenderly, reaching for her pillow from home and propping it behind her back. "Hanging in there?"  
  
She nodded wearily. "How much longer?" She asked the nurse. "I really want to push."  
  
Robert was incredulous. "She's feeling the urge to push and you don't have an OB in here? Where the hell is Dr. Merritt?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Romano, but her emergency c-section crashed. There's no way she's coming out of that OR." Janie seemed quite flustered.  
  
"What about Gupta?" He demanded.  
  
"She's observing a labor with breech presentation. She can't leave her patient, either."  
  
"Then where the hell is the resident on call?"  
  
"We're - not sure," Janie stammered. "We think he might have stepped out for something to eat."  
  
Romano rolled his tongue in his cheek and clenched his jaw. "Then page Coburn."  
  
"No!"  
  
Erin's passionate cry startled both of them. "No?"  
  
"No! I don't want Janet Coburn anywhere near this baby!"  
  
"You've got to be kidding me, Windsor -" Robert began but she shook her head violently. "We need to get you a doctor-"  
  
"You do it."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Robert, you've taken strangers, opened up their chests, and reconstructed their hearts. The least you can do for me, your wife, is catch." She was stammering through ragged breaths.  
  
"Erin, I can't remember the last time I delivered a baby." He shook his head.  
  
"Do you remember the last time a woman in labor tried to beat you to death with an IV pole?" Her words were caustic, but her eyes were full of pleading, and the slightest bit of fear. He sighed heavily, and for the first time in years, felt his stomach knot at the idea of the procedure he was about to undertake. He glanced at the cowering nurse and nodded. She hurried to the cart in the corner and retrieved a gown. He shoved his arms into it with that old familiar gesture, then offered his hands out to be gloved. Another nurse began situating Erin in the bed, and he took a deep breath. "All right, let's roll."  
  
  
  
In retrospect, it didn't take very long. She was crowning by the time the nurse gave her the green light to push. He would never forget the girl's delighted exclamation.  
  
"This can't be Romano's kid..look at all that hair!"  
  
Reflex clinical thinking taking over. Reaching, turning, asking for suction. A tiny wail, a responding gasp from Erin. "Shoulders now - toughest part. Push for me, now." Slippery purple body in his hands, arms flailing, legs kicking.  
  
He had a son.  
  
  
  
  
  
Erin had hardly realized he was gone. The rush of narcotics swept through her like a tide, pulling her down into quiet oblivion. She drifted half in and half out of awareness, heard voices from a distance, felt hands on her body. "Nine and a half, one hundred percent, and I can feel the baby's head. Better dial back that drip and let her come around."  
  
A few more minutes of dreamy peace, and then a gnawing edge of pain and pressure. She opened her eyes groggily. "Hey, what happened to my fix?" Janie laughed and started to answer, but her voice was drowned out by a sudden urge from deep within Erin's body, not quite a pain, not quiet an ache, but a contraction demanding response. "Oh, God, I think I need to push."  
  
"No, Erin, don't. Hang on for just a few minutes. We paged Dr. Romano, and we should have an OB in here very soon...."  
  
"Easier said than done - dammit!" She clamped every muscle in her body down on the sensation in her abdomen. She lost herself in the struggle for a few minutes, and then he was there, by her side, holding her hand, his lips on her forehead. Angry at the absence of a doctor. My hero, she thought to herself before a wave of pain swept through her once more. There were heated words, the mention of that woman's name -No! Anyone but her! - and then he caught her gaze from the end of the bed. His voice, a beacon through the tearing agony, soft, encouraging. His eyes, demanding her focus, screwing her concentration down to one single point of swirling chocolate brown.  
  
A burning sense of release.  
  
A small, airy cry.  
  
His voice, another, blessedly agonizing separation.  
  
They were a family. 


	25. Epilogue The Safest Place

She would have sworn she was dreaming.  
  
She remembered Robert placing that tiny, slick body on her chest. The tiny mouth working as breathy wails emerged, balled fists beating the air. And then her arms closed around him, and he fell quiet.  
  
Her son.  
  
Slate blue eyes blinked in groggy amazement, fingers closed around her pinky, pulled it towards his face. The nurse swiped the tiny head with a moist warm towel, and the auburn strands burst into unruly curl. Robert's face next to her cheek, breathing in wonder. "I love you." The tiny head craned at the sound of his father's voice, and they laughed through their tears. The nurse took her little boy from her arms, and they were filled with the broad shoulders of her best friend, her lover, her husband. She clung to him as his lips worked against her neck, her ear.  
  
And then the bundle was back, yawning and squealing. The nurse's voice. "Seven pounds, two ounces, twenty one inches long. He's absolutely perfect." He squawked again, and Erin guided him to her breast. He latched on easily, and Robert tickled tiny feet.  
  
Then the world began to swirl into deep vibrant color. Her head fell back on the pillow. Someone took the baby from her. And Robert's voice. "Nice work, Mom. Get some sleep."  
  
And now she lay in the bed, feeling exhausted, achy, sore, and euphoric. Awake, but for the hauntingly beautiful sound in her ears. She opened her eyes...  
  
And realized she wasn't dreaming at all.  
  
The lamp a few feet from the rocker set his face in a rosy glow. Proud bare brow, eyes sparkling and aware, jaw softened in wonder -  
  
Lips shaping the most beautiful song she'd ever heard.  
  
Singing to his son.  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes as she saw the gentle cradle he created with his elbow, the strong thumb circled by four tiny fingers. A tiny sigh from the blanket floated on the notes of the lullaby. Lips she would die for brushed the tiny forehead.  
  
A sniffle betrayed her, breaking his reverie and drawing his focus to her face.  
  
"Hey, gorgeous."  
  
She swiped the tears from her cheeks. "I didn't mean to interrupt."  
  
He smiled - not a smirk, not a grin - a genuine, beautiful smile. "Not at all. I think he's going to be looking for you soon anyway." He rose from the chair and crossed the room. Erin moved over on the mattress, accepted the baby so he could lower the guardrail, and he slipped into the bed next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she stroked the baby's cheek. He rooted his face to the side, and Erin gave him her finger to suckle. "He's beautiful," Robert breathed.  
  
"He looks like his daddy."  
  
"Oh, you flatterer." He kissed her temple.  
  
"So what's his name?"  
  
"I thought we agreed - "  
  
Erin smiled. "Are you certain?"  
  
He nodded, then leaned in to kiss the baby's cheek.  
  
"Welcome to the world, Patrick Windsor Romano." Robert whispered softly. The baby squealed. "I think he likes it."  
  
Erin snuggled against his chest, adjusted her gown to feed her son. Robert's arms wrapped tighter around her as the sound of Patrick's swallowing filled the room.  
  
Outside, an autumn breeze rattled the windowpane, and the harvest moon shone down on the same old city, with one new story to tell.  
  
  
  
  
  
***Channels Barry Manilow***  
  
"Looks like we made it..."  
  
Yes, dear reader, this is the end. They deserve some peace for a while, don't you think? Maybe one day I'll visit them again, and if I do, I promise to share what I see.  
  
This first work of mine has been a true labor of love, and would not have endured if not for the help and inspiration of some wonderful friends:  
  
Rocket Launcher - my sister in snark, my co-conspirator in Romano love - I'll never be able to thank you enough. I wasn't sure I'd make it, but you pulled me through like a true wandering wizard. Bud Light's on me, my friend.  
  
PaulMcCrane Fan - for all the nights you telecommuted to keep me awake and inspired, I am forever in your debt. Burbank, August. We'll party, baby.  
  
TrekGirl and Rain - what can I say? Noisy kisses and the Patented Romano- Ella Wave.and keep watching for pink shirts and purple ties.  
  
To the handsome and talented Paul McCrane (yeah, like he's ever gonna see this - well, maybe you all would like to know what I have to say to him): they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Now, mine may border on obsession, but please believe this work was created with only the deepest respect in mind. Had TPTB given you a little more face time, I may not have been forced into such desperate corners of fantasy, so if I have offended - BLAME THEM! But please, for as long as there is snark to be uttered, continue to breathe your special form of life into a character who has worked his way into the heart and soul of so many of us. And remember: God is Love.  
  
And for everyone else who read and reviewed - a deeply heartfelt thank you. It's nice to know there are so many out there who can see a prick is usually more than just a prick. And I appreciate you allowing me to thrust my interpretation upon you.  
  
FIN 


	26. PostPartum Developments

DISCLAIMER: The characters contained herein (excluding Erin Windsor-Romano and her adorable son Patrick) are the exclusive property of NBC, WB, Jack Orman, John Wells, and Michael Crichton. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.  
  
I LOVE YOU READERS SO MUCH! The lovely reviews you have posted have been awesome! I am so glad you've enjoyed the little tale I've created. And to think, some of you even asked for more. Well, who am I to deny?  
  
Okay, so we all know that, in the real world, they're making his life really suck. Well, I hate that. HATE it. I want him blissfully happy for once. So, if it's Romanangst you want, don't bother reading, because you ain't gonna find it here ---  
Her hair was tickling his nose. Robert reached up and smoothed it down, and smiled as she arched, catlike, towards his touch. Even in her sleep, she responded to him like the other half of his soul. He tousled the auburn strands with his fingers once more before letting his palm trail down her warm, bare back. She sighed, snuggled against him.  
  
He thought back to her face when he'd taken her in his arms just a few hours before. She had been nervous, even afraid. The lust stoked in his eyes probably hadn't helped. It would have been easier to deny that the sky was blue than to deny his desire and need for her.  
  
The incision had healed, the body had shrunk rapidly back to nearly its original size, save for the hips which were now slightly - enticingly - rounder. And of course, her breasts --- Watching her nurse their son had become his favorite form of self-torture. Not that there weren't plenty of others. Just sitting next to her had become it's own exercise in self- control. For both of them. But today, mother and son had departed for the hospital for routine checks, and he paced the floor restlessly as he waited to find out whether or not the waiting period would be pronounced over.  
  
It was after four, and he was in the lab when she glided through the door. Huge eyes and unruly curls peered out at him from the carrier hanging from her arm; tiny lips parted and squealed when he spoke. "There's my boy." He lifted the warm body in his hands, pressed his nose against the terrycloth-covered stomach, and was rewarded with a giggle of pure gold. He tucked Patrick into the cradle of his elbow and pulled Erin in against him. Her palm rubbed his stomach as his lips caressed hers. Her voice was melodic when it drifted to his ears.  
  
"Don't work late tonight."  
  
An unnecessary statement. He could not remember the last time he had put in more than eight hours in twenty-four. Quite a change from the Robert Romano of old. His eyes had burned into hers. "So - everything's all right?"  
  
"Right as rain." She breathed softly. "Good thing, too. I've missed you." She nuzzled his neck, and had he not been holding their son, he would have dragged her to the floor and ravaged her right there, never minding the two techs working just down the aisle, eyeing them curiously. He pressed her tighter against him, fingers digging into her hip.  
  
"Damn you, Windsor. Don't tease me like that."  
  
A poetic gurgling provided the perfect distraction. Both mother and father turned their attention to infant, smiling and cooing and holding little fingers. A squeal, a squawk, and the baby drew Robert's finger to his mouth, gnawing pink gums clamping down. "Man, he's getting strong," Robert chuckled, and Erin snorted laughter, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
Robert turned his gaze back to her, his eyes smoky once more. "Sore?" Her breath caught in her throat and she nodded imperceptibly. "Poor baby." He kissed her again, tender yet seductive. "Massage tonight?"  
  
Images leapt into Erin's mind, making her shudder with long-denied need. She darted her tongue out to wet the desert of her lips. "For starters."  
  
Romano growled and pulled her against him once more, crushing her stomach against his hip. "Get your ass out of here." They exchanged one more longing kiss and Erin reached for the baby. But Robert shooed her hands away. "Oh, no you don't." He dug in his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Jag. "This guy is going to stick out the rest of the day here with his old man." He jingled the keychain in front of the child's eyes, giving rise to another burst of giggles. Erin's heart swelled with love and pride. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Absolutely." Robert tossed her the keys then raised the infant to eye level. "We're going to be fine, just us guys, aren't we? Romano and Romano, the Dream Team of County General. You shoot 'em - we root 'em. You stab 'em - we stitch 'em." Another shriek of mirth, and he brought the wriggling body against his shoulder, burying his nose in the soft, fragrant depths of the baby's neck. Erin reached over and stroked Patrick's back, then unshouldered her bag. She located her wallet, which she tucked in her pocket, made sure the keys to her car were inside, and then zipped it shut. "I just fed him and changed him upstairs, and there's about five ounces in the ice pack. The bottle warmer is in here, too, so." She trailed off as Robert withered her with his gaze.  
  
"Give me a break, Windsor. I'm surrounded by professionals here - I can always hand him off to a nurse if I need to."  
  
Erin grinned knowingly. He could shoot his mouth off all he wanted for the benefit of the staff. She didn't mind. She was actually somewhat glad. The images of him changing diapers, bathing the squirming pink body, fumbling with tiny buttons and snaps, and walking the floor at night because Patrick had fallen asleep against his shoulder and he didn't have the heart to put him down - those were hers. And she hoarded them greedily. She wrapped her arms around both father and son, kissing the mouth of the first and the curly head of the second. "I'll miss you both." She nuzzled the baby's ear. "Be a good boy for daddy." Then she stretched a bit and smiled broadly. "I'm off to soak in the tub.by myself." Robert caressed her backside as she walked away. Then he turned his attention back to his son.  
  
"So, squirt, you want to learn how to use an electron microscope?" Patrick blew a series of noisy bubbles. "What?" Robert quipped. "A fiber optic laryngoscope? Jeez, kid, anyone ever tell you you've got to crawl before you can walk?" The infant squealed and beat the air with a tiny fist. "Okay, sorry, I guess I can't blame you if you take that one personally." He caught sight of the two technicians observing him and he glared their direction. "Those samples aren't going to propagate themselves!" He barked harshly. "County isn't paying you to observe early childhood development! You want to do that, you go sign yourself up for some pediatric clinical study. But when you're in my lab, I expect your focus to be on the task at hand!"  
  
The young man and woman both jumped and returned to work, muttering quiet apologies. "Sorry, Dr. Romano." He fixed them with an icy glare before turning his back on them. He placed the diaper bag in the carrier, then lifted it and headed out into the hall, whispering against the top of Patrick's head. "Lesson number one - Romanos can always kick a little ass." He was headed for his office when Elizabeth spotted him from her desk. She called out to him, a lilt in her voice.  
  
"Don't you dare pass me by without stopping when you've got that handsome man in tow!"  
  
He turned to face her, a grin on his lips. "Jeez, Lizzie, you don't have to yell at him like that. After all, he is just a baby."  
  
He stepped into her office and she rose from her chair, holding out her arms. "Come here, you gorgeous little bundle." She saw Robert beaming as he handed over his son, and couldn't resist adding, "You look more like your mummy every day." She tucked Patrick into her arms and kissed his rosy cheek gently as Robert chuckled. "Speaking of mummy, where is Erin?"  
  
Romano sank into a chair as she did the same. "She is on her way home for a couple hours of well-deserved rest. Speaking of which, could I use your phone, please?" Elizabeth nodded, her eyes still on the cooing baby in her arms. Robert picked up the receiver and dialed. "Patricia? Robert Romano. What's fresh today?" He paused to listen to the voice on the other end. "Nah, roses.too obvious. Need something more original. Calla Lilies? Nice, but too white, too.funereal. Could you dress them up with some color? Moonshadows? What are those? Purple? Hmm.okay. Yeah, but I need it at the house by six. The card? Oh, umm." He paused for a moment in thought. "Just put, 'You're already worth the wait'. Great, thanks Patricia." He laid the phone back in its cradle with a grin.  
  
Elizabeth had been staring intently at the baby during the call, trying not to listen. But, of course, she'd heard every word. Understood the implications of such a conversation as well. "Been six weeks already?" She asked softly.  
  
"Forty seven days," Romano answered, a bit quickly. "But who's counting?"  
  
Elizabeth gazed at him as she absently stroked the tiny fingers closed around her thumb. "You've really taken to all this, haven't you? Home, wife, baby."  
  
Robert crossed his arms behind his head. "Yeah, I guess I have."  
  
Elizabeth sighed, glancing back down at the child in her arms. "If I had ever even suspected."  
  
Her voice was soft, and Robert was sure she had not intended to speak out loud. He thought about teasing her, some friendly, good-spirited ribbing. "Yes, Lizzie, so sorry. Chalk me up as another 'One Who Got Away' story." She would blanch, call him a name, maybe laugh a little. Maybe sit smarting as she rocked his son in her embrace.  
  
He considered pretending he hadn't heard her. "Sorry, Lizzie, I didn't catch that last." She would shake her head, make some demurral. Perhaps even pretend she'd been talking to Patrick.  
  
Instead he just fixed her with eyes that were not unkind, waiting. She finally met his gaze.  
  
And years of unspoken words passed between them in a matter of seconds.  
  
Elizabeth could see into his life as clearly as watching through a window. He would collect his son and stride through the halls, as proud as he had ever been. He would bundle the child into the car and drive to the house he'd spent years turning into his home. He would embrace his wife. They would share dinner, marvel over their infant creation, and when the tiny one slept, they would slip away to make love, possibly basking in the fragrance of the flowers he'd had delivered earlier.  
  
A life that could have been hers.  
  
As she contemplated his existence, Robert pondered hers as well. She would work until she was half-dead with exhaustion. Stumble home to a house void of adult company, save for the brief moments before the nanny made her exit. She would have Ella, true. Someone to hold and cuddle and sing to and love. Someone who looked just like the one who had left her behind.  
  
"Elizabeth?"  
  
"Yes, Robert?"  
  
"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, simple.  
  
She smiled wryly.  
  
"So am I."  
Erin arrived home and breezed into the house, feeling naked without the weight of baby, diaper bag, and car seat. She breathed a ragged sigh of relief when she saw that the maid service had come - the kitchen counter was covered with folded laundry, the kitchen itself was spotless, as was the living room. She contemplated fixing dinner, but the call of her garden tub was just too great. I'll just throw some steaks on the grill when Robert gets home.She dashed up the stairs, already pulling her sweater over her head. The cleaners had visited the bedroom as well - she could smell the fresh linens on the bed. Even the bassinette was sparkling, the coverlet and sheets having been hand-washed. Erin brushed her fingers over it as she passed. A few moments later, she was up to her ears in a swirling, hot liquid heaven. She treated herself to a long, slow shampoo and a deep conditioning rinse, then bathed her face in a cool moisturizing treatment. It had been so long since she had been able to indulge in such detail, and she planned to make the most of it.  
  
Besides, everything needs to be perfect tonight, of all nights.  
  
She trembled a little with anticipation, and even a little bit of fear.  
  
Don't be silly - Dr. Merritt says it's okay, that everything has healed nicely. And Robert would never hurt me.  
  
She giggled a little at her trepidation. "Better shave those legs, girl."  
His son was a heartbreaker at less than three months old.  
  
His stride was jauntier than usual as he made his way through the last couple hours of the day, cradling the infant proudly in his arms. People who usually bolted the other direction when they saw him coming today closed the distance between them rather than widening it. Patrick had goggled perfectly for Brenda, cooed enchantingly for Shirley, worked half the nursing staff into a squealing tizzy, and spit up all over Edson.  
  
Yessir, that's my boy.  
  
After a fair amount of showboating, Robert carried his son back to his office and tucked him into his carrier. The baby whimpered, arching his back, resisting being put down. "Hey there," Romano cooed softly. "You want to go home to mommy, don't you?" Patrick fell quiet, but pouted his lower lip. "Come on, buddy. Give your old man a break." He pulled off his labcoat and hung it on his chair. As soon as he was out of Patrick's line of sight, the baby began to wail. "Hey, hey, hey," he moved back to the carrier and lifted the squalling child back into his arms. He was just beginning to walk the floor when there was a knock at the door. Kerry Weaver pushed it open without being asked, already speaking. "Robert, I was just reviewing your proposed budget for next quarter and I really think -" She lifted her eyes from the binder in her hand, and stopped short, literally flinching at the sight in front of her. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, Robert - I didn't know - I mean, I wasn't aware."  
  
"It's okay, Kerry," Robert rubbed the baby's back as the wails gave way to hitching sobs. "But, as you can see, I've got my hands full, and I'm trying to get out of here. This is going to have to wait until tomorrow, maybe even until Friday." His words trailed off as he observed Kerry's demeanor. Her eyes were fixed on the baby, her expression one Robert could not comprehend. A sense of wonder, tinged with both longing and sadness. Before he knew what he was doing, he was crossing the room. "Um - would you mind?"  
  
Kerry broke from her reverie. "Huh?"  
  
Patrick had quieted, and was regarding his father with long, slow blinks. "Hold him and he'll doze right off. If I put him down, he'll raise the rafters." Weaver blanched as she realized what he was saying, and after a moment of stunned silence, sank slowly into a chair. Robert gently took the binder from her hand and placed his son in her arms. Patrick regarded this new stranger with wide eyes before exhaling a breathy sigh. A tiny hiccup, a fist made its way to his mouth, and the eyes closed. Kerry sat, enraptured, stroking the tiny head. Robert moved quietly about his office, tossing necessary files and folders into his briefcase, pulling his suit coat over his shoulders. He picked up the telephone and dialed Erin's favorite Chinese restaurant to place a dinner order. Then he lifted the car seat to his desk, pulling the diaper bag out and draping a blanket inside it. With a small smile, Kerry rose carefully and placed the sleeping baby in the contour of the seat. She watched as Robert meticulously fastened the belt and tucked the fleece around the cherubic face. "You and Erin are very lucky."  
  
Robert traced one finger along a rosy cheek. "I know." He straightened and reached for his coat. "Well, Kerry, I won't lie and say I wish I could stick around."  
  
"No, of course." Weaver watched as he shouldered the diaper bag, slung the car seat over his right arm and grabbed his valise with his left hand. "Here, let me help." She extended her hand, but he shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"It's all right, I've got it."  
  
"Robert," she chided, taking the handle of his briefcase from his fingers. Relenting, he shifted the baby carrier to a more comfortable grip, and they left his office together.  
  
"As far as the budget goes," Romano resumed his brusque, professional tone, "don't even think about trying to send me back to square one on this. It's fair, it's balanced, and frankly, I just don't see a lot of wiggle room." Kerry shook her head, a wry smile on her face. They barbed back and forth all the way to the parking garage, where he fished the keys from the bag and chirped the alarm. Weaver paused a moment, raising an eyebrow at the sleek, black M Class. "This is nice, Robert. When did you get this?"  
  
"Not mine. Erin's. Christmas present." He was snapping the car seat into the base in the center of the back seat.  
  
"Nice Christmas present."  
  
"Yeah, well, vulgar as the f-word is, we needed one."  
  
Kerry's brow furrowed. "F-word?"  
  
Romano smirked. "Family car." Weaver laughed as he nodded. "She refused to consider a Hummer, I refused to consider a minivan, and so this was our compromise." He closed the door to the backseat and held out his hand. Kerry gave him his valise, and he opened the driver's side, tossing it in casually. "Well, good night, Kerry."  
  
She smiled slightly as he climbed behind the wheel. "Good night Robert. Tell Erin I said hello, and that we miss her."  
  
His brown eyes held her face for a moment. "I'll do that."  
He couldn't get home fast enough. He pulled into the garage, rushed in collecting the bag and car seat, and moved inside as quickly as possible. The dogs bounded over eagerly, sniffing the soft blankets. "Go on, get out of here." He shooed them impatiently. He entered the living room and set his load down with a grin.  
  
A fire was burning in the hearth. Lit candles lined the walls. The coffee table was covered with cartons of delicious smelling food, all arranged around a brilliantly beautiful arrangement of flowers. Well done, Patricia.  
  
From behind, two slender hands snaked their way around his torso, slipping up over his chest. Warm softness pressed against his back and tender, moist lips caressed his earlobe. "I'm so glad you're home." The purr of her voice resonated in the pit of his stomach and he closed his eyes, fighting to maintain control. He covered delicate fingers with his own, lifted them to his lips, tasted the flavor of her skin. Then he turned in her embrace and plunged his hands into the crimson depths of her hair.  
  
"That makes two of us," he murmured before claiming the mouth she offered up.  
  
Erin's knees puddled under the muted passion of the kiss, and she had to settle her weight against him. He accepted it eagerly, allowing her to mold her body against his. Her arms tightened around him and, for one dizzying moment, she thought they would melt to the floor, tear each other's clothes away, and he would hold her, his eyes would sear into hers and bodies would shift and meet and meld.  
  
Patrick's plaintive wail of hunger pierced the air.  
  
Robert exhaled raggedly as he released her, then struggled out of his coat. "Hot in here." They exchanged knowing looks and smiles, and Erin knelt to free the baby from the carrier. Robert walked into the foyer to hang up his coat, removed his jacket and tie and hung them over the banister. By the time he returned to the living room, Erin was in the crook of the sofa, legs tucked under her, blouse open. She cradled their son's head against her chest and smiled down at him, stroking his cheek and cooing softly. The sounds of the baby swallowing filled the air, and Robert moved to take his place next to her. He bent his head and kissed feathery curls. "Lucky kid." He nuzzled Erin's neck. "Me next?"  
  
She smiled and giggled. "But what about me?" She eyed the feast spread before them on the table. Obediently, Robert picked up some chopsticks and offered her a bite. Erin closed her eyes as if she were in heaven. "Robert Romano, you spoil me." He shot her his signature cocky grin. "I'm serious. The food, the flowers, the card." She shivered. "Lovely surprises." Patrick hiccuped against her, and she lifted him, gently patting his back. "So, how did this guy do today?"  
  
"Fantastic." Robert drawled. "Repaired a GSW to some banger's left ventricle, reconstructed an aortic graft, and spewed his lunch all over Dale Edson's favorite silk tie." He took the baby from her as she laughed approvingly. He draped a napkin over his knee as he rubbed Patrick's back. A hiccup, and a burp, and he handed him back. They finished their meal in relative silence, then Robert reached for his son once more. "Bath?" Patrick giggled and grasped his father's thumb. Erin watched them move into the kitchen, buttoning her blouse and smiling. She began to clear away the now empty cartons from their dinner, then joined Robert at the sink. Patrick was gurgling happily as Robert rubbed his tummy with a soft washcloth, and Erin tenderly kissed her husband's shoulder. "You are so good at this."  
  
"Yes, well, don't let that get around." He spoke animatedly, drawing another squeal from his son. "Daddy's got a reputation to uphold, doesn't he? Yes, he does."  
  
An hour later, the three were settled on the king size bed, Patrick finally dozing off as his parents lay adoring him, and each other. They had just completed a rather passionate kiss when they saw the child was asleep. Robert's heart leapt into his throat and he stroked Erin's shoulder tenderly. "Think he'll survive a few hours in the crib tonight?" Erin nodded wordlessly. "Get naked," he whispered softly. "I'll be back." He gently scooped the sleeping infant into his arms and slid off the bed. "Alone."  
  
Romano carried his son down the hall and pushed open the door to the nursery. He lay the tiny body in the center of the crib, removing the stuffed toys and draping him with a soft blanket. Leaning down, he kissed Patrick tenderly. Exiting the room, he switched on the baby monitor and closed the door. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, he covered the few steps between the baby's room and the master bedroom quickly. 


	27. Picture Perfect

DISCLAIMER: Okay, you all know it, but I haven't said it in a while, so I will say so once more. The tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and Cupid have all left me high and dry, so unless the Easter bunny comes through, Robert Romano is still not mine. He belongs to this consortium of dudes in California who have a sick sense of humor and a disjointed gauge for masculine hotness. Okay, so maybe it's my gauge that's sticking a little, but - well, you get the point.  
  
It's been so long between updates, you all may have a small sense of what our hero and heroine have gone through here. I mean, I go and turn them into the Rabbit Romano's and then bench them for medical purposes. Well, little Patrick is totally worth it, don't you think? In any case, wring your hands no more - the wait is over...  
Erin smiled at Robert's back as he left the bedroom to tuck Patrick into his crib, shivering in muted delight as the sound of his humming wafted to her ears.  
  
He never ceased to amaze her.  
  
He had taken to being a father as if he had never expected to be anything else. It wasn't as if he had changed. It seemed more that a part of him that had always existed, hidden in the shadows, had simply stepped up to take center stage. No clumsy fumbling with blankets or diapers, no awkward stance as he tried to figure out the best way to support his son on one good arm, no fear, no trepidation, no hesitation. Just a loving and faithful attention to detail, and the instant recognition of a bond that could only have been created between his body and hers, resulting in a tiny model of human perfection. And there was no convincing him that his baby was anything but perfect, even though the week before Erin had discovered (with silent amusement) Robert pouring over the child's hairline with rueful observation. "Yeah, got to enjoy it while it's here," he had whispered softly as they rocked in a patch of sunlight by the window. His fingers tousled the delicate curls as huge gray eyes riveted on his mouth. "Because it'll all be gone someday, buddy. And that's my fault. I'm sorry. It'll leave you traumatized at first, but take it from your old man - it's not such a bad thing. Skin drives the really hot chicks right out of their minds. I mean, look at your mommy. I got her good - you're here now, right? Yes. And watch her sometimes. Can't keep her hands off it. Or her lips, for that matter. You know all those kisses she heaps on you? Yeah. You can thank me for those. I'm her practice brow." She had slipped away, unnoticed, leaving them to their "man talk" and making a mental note to include a scalp massage in that evening's activities of affection.  
  
Activities of affection.  
  
Erin shivered. There would be no need for such euphemisms after tonight. Tonight. When life would return to normal. When Robert would come sauntering through the bedroom door, whisk her into his arms, lay her back against the pillows. The post-partum reconsummation of marriage. The thought left her exhilarated, full of anticipation, and a bit terrified. She suddenly wished she had ignored her son's cries of hunger earlier, that she had just allowed herself to lose her senses in Robert's "Honey, I'm home" embrace. They would have slipped quietly to the floor, melted into one another, and been one. There would have been no time for nerves, no time for fear, no time for thought of any kind.  
  
A sudden burst of static made her jump, and then the room was filled with the tinkling melody from Patrick's crib mobile. Smiling, Erin reached over and turned down the volume button on the baby monitor, then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. The fabric eased away, revealing flock upon flock of goose bumps migrating over her shoulders and arms. She glanced down at her stomach. It had flattened out satisfactorily enough, but she self- consciously traced the silvery lines left behind by the pregnancy with her fingertips. Rising, she unbuttoned her jeans and stepped out of them, dropping them in the hamper just inside the bathroom door. She filled her hands with vitamin E oil and massaged it into her skin. She regarded her reflection, running her fingers through her hair. Nerves jangling in her stomach, she forced herself to turn away, slipping out of the remainder of her clothing and donning a short silk robe. She knotted it carefully at the waist and hurried back to the bedside. She turned back the sheets, inhaling the rose hip and jasmine scent of the linen spray she had used earlier. The sound of a door closing, and she quivered, feeling his presence before he even entered the room. She turned in time to see him fill the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat.  
  
He was fumbling open his cuffs, unbuttoning his shirt. The visible line of skin grew larger and larger, landscape she knew by heart. The slight freckling below the collarbone, the ticklish spot below the ribs on the right, the way the muscles on the left now fatigued much quicker. She remembered lying on the beach in Cozumel, her cheek resting on his stomach, delivering a lengthy dissertation on the appeal of his navel. Remembered hearing his laughter rumble within the skin beneath her ear, remembered feeling him squirm under the warmth of her breath as she kissed him, and after ---  
  
"See something you like?"  
  
His voice broke into her reverie, and she blushed a little. She had been staring. Lifting her eyes to his face, she nodded and hummed a soft admission. Grinning, full of self-satisfaction, he slid the shirt off and crossed the room. He sank down on the bed next to her, pulling off his socks, and tossing them aside. His eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment. Then a metallic clinking heralded the release of his belt, and Erin shivered reflexively, casting her eyes away. He noticed immediately. "You okay?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm." She tried lifting her head, couldn't do it. She lay her hand on his bare shoulder, felt ligament and tendon flex beneath her skin in response. His lips brushed the hair at her forehead. "Windsor," his voice was soft, full of control. Romano at his best. "If you aren't up to this now -"  
  
Her head snapped up, and she lifted her hand, placing it against his mouth. He winced as if pained by her touch, and his lips parted against the tips of her fingers. "Shhh," she hushed him softly before slipping her hand to the back of his neck and drawing him to her.  
  
The kiss was tentative, exploring. No other muscle in his body moved, Erin wasn't even sure if he was breathing. She moved both hands to his shoulders and pulled him against her, sliding her touch down to his elbows to guide his arms around her. Encouraged, his lips parted, his tongue sought entry, and she granted it easily. They sank into the warm embrace of the bed, each lost in the heady, intoxicating rush that originated within their mouths and spread like wildfire to every other cell of their bodies. Erin closed her eyes, basking in it's warmth. And then his fingers were tugging at the knot just below her navel, and she tensed against her will, whimpering softly. He abruptly pulled back. "What? What is it? Did I hurt you?"  
  
She gazed adoringly at the face hovering above hers, full of concern and doubt and longing and restraint, and was once again swept away by all that he was, and all he was not. "No," she whispered softly. "No, you didn't hurt me." And just when she thought he would pull away, call it quits for the night, something turned in her. He sensed it, even saw it on her face, but she knew he'd never act on it. So with the most control she could muster, she reached up and pulled him to her again, nibbled at his lips with her own, exhaled warm breath along his jaw, whispered soft, pleading encouragement in his ear. His hands slid under her shoulders, his welcome weight pressed her into the mattress.  
  
And there was no longer cause for worry.  
They were dozing lightly when the tiny plea drifted from the baby monitor. Robert lifted his head as Erin turned hers, their smiles a mirror of one another. Erin gently nudged him to the bed beside her. "I'll go," he protested softly with a yawn. She giggled a little, stroking his chest. "Nope. I've got it." She rose from the bed, looking for her robe. It had, not surprisingly, been swallowed by the linens, and she abandoned the search after only a moment. She reached instead for Robert's discarded shirt, and he gave a silky chuckle. "Fill that out quite nicely, you do." She winked at him affectionately before slipping quietly from the room. She found her son, wide-awake and wailing softly, tiny hand gripping his blanket as it flailed by his side. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she lifted him easily into arms suddenly aching to hold him. She moved towards the rocker in the corner of the room, triggering the lone creaky floorboard in the house. "Oh, no you don't." Robert's voice, from down the hall. "Get in here." Patrick's head craned towards the sound, and Erin smiled. Kissing his curls reverently, she headed back to the master bedroom.  
  
Robert sat up in bed as she slipped through the door, switching on the bedside lamp. His face twisted in a squint at the glare, but he held out his arms. Erin tucked Patrick into his embrace, and then moved around to slip back into bed herself. The baby giggled at his father's changing expressions as Robert's eyes adjusted to the light, and Erin laid her head easily against his shoulder. "Is Daddy silly?" This elicited a full belly laugh that spread from child to parents before Romano adopted a mock scowl. "Hey! No laughing at the old man." He buried his face in Patrick's stomach with a growl, and the infant squealed in delight. After a few moments of cooing, the baby began rooting his mouth to the side. "That's my cue," Erin smiled, reaching for him. Robert handed him over before settling into the pillows. He watched with an almost protective air as Erin fed their son, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face so he could see her serene expression. "You never told me you wanted a baby so badly."  
  
Erin looked over at him with a soft smile. "I never knew until he was here."  
  
Romano nodded, understanding. There was a moment of pause, where the only sound was that of Patrick's swallowing, and then -  
  
"I'm bullshitting my way through this. You know that, don't you?"  
  
Erin turned to him, face clouded with confusion and disbelief. "What?"  
  
Robert's expression was one of simple resignation. A long stretch of silence, and Erin thought he wasn't going to speak again. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but it was then that he chose to continue. "I have no clue how to be a father." He spoke lamely. "Christ, I don't even know how to be a teacher. And I guess I'm just wondering when it's all going to catch up with me."  
  
Erin reached to caress his face with one warm palm. "You're doing a pretty damn good job so far. I mean - " she paused for a moment, groping for words. "Don't you even try to tell me that you're faking it. I know you love him, you love being with him, you love taking care of him."  
  
"That is true," Romano nodded. "But that can't be all there is to it."  
  
Erin glanced down at the half-dozing baby. "Sure it can. For now. Robert, he's a baby. What exactly are you thinking you should be tackling here? Trinomials? Eastern philosophy?"  
  
"No," Robert sniped, poking her in the ribs. "I just worry --- it feels too easy. I mean, look at him. Loving him isn't hard." As the two made eye contact, Patrick smiled and gurgled, and Robert reached over to tickle his feet. "Baths and diapers can be a real bitch with one arm, but for the most part, he's no sweat." He leaned his head against Erin's chest. "It can't be this easy."  
  
Erin kissed the top of his head softly. "It won't always be, my love. Enjoy it while it lasts, because pretty soon - " Her words were cut off when Robert sat up and caught her lips with his own. The kiss lingered, neither of them aware of Patrick goggling happily up at them until he squealed softly. Their shared laughter broke their mouths apart, and Robert lifted the child onto his own chest. "Little mood breaker," he snarled playfully. The infant burrowed his face sleepily into Robert's flesh and Erin reached for the light. As darkness descended, accentuating the moonlight shining in the window, the three of them snuggled close together in the center of the bed.  
Romano watched over his wife and son until they were both asleep in the circle of his arm.  
  
His right arm.  
  
And he chided himself for chickening out.  
  
What would Erin say when she found out about the left?  
  
He almost shook her awake, wanting to tell her the truth, needing to share it with her. And then his eyes fell on the tiny, perfect face nestled beneath her chin. The brow that was his, the eyes the shape of his own, the same nose he saw in the mirror, the same jaw. His father's son. And a voice filled his head - elusively familiar...  
  
Not now, Romano. What was it you said once? Good news can wait, bad news never goes away. Let it go. For now. For now, just love him, love his mother, and leave the wolf out the door.  
  
With a mighty effort, Robert moved his left arm from where it lay propped on his side, bringing it to rest on Erin's stomach. She stirred a bit, her own palm coming to cover it gently. Romano sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and drifted off to dream a world where he could feel her fingers closed around his own. 


End file.
